University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


BY-PATHS  TO  FORGOTTEN  FOLKS 


Waif  of  the  Sierras — the  Mono. 


BY-PATHS 
TO  FORGOTTEN  FOLKS 


STORIES  OF  REAL  LIFE  IN  BAPTIST 
HOME  MISSION  FIELDS 


By  COE  HAYNE 

Author  of  »  Old  Trili  and  New  " 


EDITED  BY 

THE  DEPARTMENT  OF  MISSIONARY  EDUCATION 
BOARD  OF  EDUCATION 

OF  THE 

NORTHERN  BAPTIST  CONVENTION 

276  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York  City 

PUBLISHED  BY 

THE    JUDSON    PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA 

BOSTON  CHICAGO  ST.  LOUIS  LOS  ANGELES 

KANSAS  CITY  SEATTLE  TORONTO 


Copyright,  1981,  by 
GILBERT  N.  BRINK,  SECRETARY 

Published  September,  1921 


PRINTED  IN  U.  S.  A. 


H3 


9o 

4H.  it. 


FOREWORD 

Our  Christian  civilization  has  moved  westward 
over  the  paths  worn  by  the  pioneers  of  the  Cross. 
These  pioneers  followed  the  old  Indian  trails  which 
led  through  deserts  and  over  mountain  fastnesses. 
They  threaded  their  way  through  tangled  woods 
and  mountain  snows.  They  made  the  forests  their 
cathedrals,  and  their  burning  messages  were  set  to 
the  music  of  rushing  waterfalls.  They  believed  that 
in  time  "  the  desert  shall  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the 
rose."  The  trails  they  followed  have  since  become 
royal  highways  dotted  with  meeting-houses  and 
schools  and  Christian  homes. 

In  "  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks  "  is  a  series  of 
journeys  to  these  ancient  peoples,  journeys  full  of 
thrilling  interest.  The  earlier  services  and  sacri 
fices  of  John  M.  Peck  and  his  followers  are  fully 
rewarded ;  we  see  the  Christian  villages  and  homes 
of  the  Mono,  the  Hopi,  and  the  Navajo. 

It  is  given  us  to  see  clearly  the  work  of  the  fron 
tier  missionary  pastor  with  all  his  problems,  his 
perils,  and  his  consecrations.  These  records  of  his 
labors  in  remote  communities  make  you  wish  to  help 
him  in  his  great  task. 


Foreword 

There  are  no  words  to  describe  accurately  the 
heroisms  of  faith  which  were  the  intangible  weapons 
by  which  our  earlier  missionaries  waged  their  suc 
cessful  conquests  of  the  Cross.  Nor  are  there  words 
that  can  tell  completely  the  story  of  these  later  mis 
sionaries  who  daily  tread  the  "  By-Paths  to  Forgot 
ten  Folks."  These  modern  acts  of  the  apostles  form 
another  chapter  in  the  book  of  faith. 

We  are  invited  to  journey  into  the  Latin-American 
country,  where  great  opportunities  now  are  open  to 
write  the  principles  of  religious  liberty  into  the  life 
of  people  long  denied  the  gospel. 

Here  also  are  stories  of  the  new  Americans,  some 
times  nearly  lost  in  the  city  deserts.  Christian 
Americanization  is  a  worthy  theme  which  the  author 
does  not  neglect,  and  he  leads  us  through  these  by 
ways  to  the  great  hosts  of  forgotten  folks  who 
need  the  ministering  agencies  of  the  Christian 
church. 

The  author  has  a  tender  and  an  exquisite  appre 
ciation  of  the  peoples  about  whom  he  writes,  and  in 
this  series  of  stories  has  enriched  our  knowledge, 
and  quickened  our  faith  in  the  power  of  the  Gospel. 
He  succeeds  first  in  focusing  our  attention,  then  in 
illuminating  the  thing  he  asks  us  to  see. 

The  fields  represented  are  those  of  the  American 
Baptist  Home  Mission  Society,  the  Woman's  Ameri 
can  Baptist  Home  Mission  Society,  the  American 


Foreword 

Baptist  Publication  Society,  the  State  Conventions, 
and  the  City  Mission  Societies. 

The  Department  of  Missionary  Education  recom 
mends  "  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks  "  for  supple 
mentary  reading  and  study  in  connection  with  the 
new  book,  "  From  Survey  to  Service,"  which  is  the 
adult  Home  Mission  study-book  for  1921-22.  "  By- 
Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks "  is  also  listed  in  the 
National  Missionary  Reading  Contests.  It  furnishes 
a  wealth  of  Baptist  Home  Mission  material  for  use 
in  study  classes,  program  meetings,  and  fireside 
reading.  We  commend  these  stories  to  all  our  Bap 
tist  people,  for  the  light  they  throw  on  our  great 
Home  Mission  enterprise. 

WILLIAM  A.  HILL, 
Secretary  of  Missionary  Education. 

JULY  15, 1921. 


CONTENTS 

I 
SUNSET  INDIAN  MISSIONS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.  LAST  OF  THE  YOSEMITES 3 

II.  WAIFS  OF  THE  SIERRAS 15 

III.  THE  LITTLE  MOTHER 22 

IV.  HAND-IN-HAND  IN  MONOLAND 28 

V.  BREAKING  NEW  TRAILS 52 

VI.  A  BROTHER  TO  THE  MONO 59 

VII.  DAWN 74 

II 
ARIZONA  DAYS 

I.  SAALAKO  83 

II.  GOOD  LITTLE  BROTHERS  OF  TUSAYAN 95 

III.  THE  NAVAJO'S  GODS  ARE  SILENT 106 

IV.  BAPTIST  WORK   AMONG  AMERICAN  IN 

DIANS.  Current  Data,  1921.  Compiled 
by  L.  C.  Barnes,  D.  D 112 


Contents 

III 
THE  CALL  OF  MOUNTAIN  AND  PRAIRIE 

CHAPTER  PAGK 

I.  RELIGIOUS  DESTITUTION  IN  REMOTE  AREAS  117 
II.  VICTORY  ON  LITTLE  LOST 126 

III.  BLOCKING  A  FUNERAL 131 

IV.  So   THAT  THEIR  LIVES   MAY   NOT   BE 

BARREN 135 

V.  JOE  BARANOFF'S  GOOD  FORTUNE 143 

IV 

UNDER  MARCHING  ORDERS 
IN  NICARAGUA 

I.  A  PIONEER  IN  PERIL 151 

II.  REENFORCEMENTS 158 

III.  ONE  AND  INSEPARABLE 164 

V 

THE  SOUL  OF  THE  NEW  AMERICAN 

I.   FlELDBRAVE  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  VALLEY 171 

II.  LOAVES  FOR  THE  HUNGRY 177 

III.  CASTLES  ON  THE  ROYAL  HIGHWAY.  ......  181 

IV.  A  BOWERY  PRAYER  CIRCLE 188 

V.  AN  ANGEL  OF  HOMESTEAD.  .  199 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Waif  of  the  Sierras — the  Mono. .  .Frontispiece 

The  "  Little  Mother  "  brings  the  Glad  News  to 
the  Mono  ; 24 

A  Mono  Madonna SO 

Getting  ready  for  Christmas  at  Auberry 34 

Mono  Bill  Charley  and  Missionary  Brendel  in 
the  grapelands  of  the  San  Joaquin 62 

Mono  Christian  girl  grinding  acorn  meal 70 

t 

Saalako,  the  old  snake  priestess  of  Walpi,  Hopi 
Pueblo,  Ariz 84 

Heathen  Hopi  home 92 

Christian  Hopi  Indians  on  the  trail  to  a  heathen 
pueblo  to  hold  a  gospel  street-meeting 100 

The  Navaho  hogan.    The  home  of  a  nomadic 
people  108 

Oregon  lumberman.  Among  the  neglected  folks  120 

A  Rocky  Mountain  railroad  section  gang  often 
visited  by  one  of  our  colporter-missionaries .   120 

Kindergarten,  Bessemer  Mission,  Pueblo,  Colo .  132 


List  of  Illustrations 

PAGE 

A   frontier  Baptist   deacon,   whose   Christian 
loyalty  blessed  a  community 140 

Wayside  pastoral  call,  Las  Animas  Valley,  Colo.  140 
A  group  of  believers  at  Managua,  Nicaragua. . .  152 

Nicaraguan  pilgrims  at  the  feast  of  the  "  Black 
Christ " 166 

Teacher  -  training    class    composed    of   young 
Italians  of  Dietz  Memorial,  Brooklyn 194 


SUNSET  INDIAN  MISSIONS 


I 

LAST  OF  THE  YOSEMITES 


,  chief  of  the  Yosemites,  looked  upon 
A  his  beloved  valley  that  no  white  man  had  seen, 
and  resolved  to  disobey  the  "Great  Father"  in 
Washington. 

The  year  was  1851.  Upon  a  remote  frontier  one 
of  the  most  disgraceful  of  all  human  hunts  had 
begun.  The  Indian  tribes  east  of  the  San  Joaquin 
and  Tulare  valleys,  from  the  Tuolumne  River  to  the 
Tejon  Pass,  had  been  ordered  to  come  down  from 
their  mountain  retreats  and  make  treaties  with  the 
three  commissioners  who  had  been  sent  to  Cali 
fornia  from  Washington  and  were  then  in  camp 
on  the  Fresno  River.  Most  of  the  chiefs  or  "  cap 
tains"  of  the  bands  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
the  commissioners'  headquarters  had  complied  with 
the  general  message,  but  others,  whose  rancherias 
were  located  farther  up  in  the  Sierras,  refused  to 
come  in.  Among  them  was  Tenaya,  who  was  reared 
a  Mono  but  in  early  manhood  became  a  chief  of 
the  Yosemites,  a  band  made  up  of  refugees  from 
the  Mono  and  Paiute  tribes.  His  home  was  in  Ah- 
wah-nee,  now  the  Yosemite  valley.  His  life-story, 
his  exploits  and  adventures  are  a  part  of  the  tradi 
tional  lore  of  the  people  with  whom  our  mission 
aries  daily  are  making  helpful  contacts.  To  know 
B  3 


4  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

how  his  people  and  the  neighboring  bands  lived 
and  to  what  extremities  they  were  driven  by  relent 
less  white  aggression,  is  to  gain  a  better  idea  of 
the  conditions  in  which  the  bearers  of  the  Glad 
News  found  the  Indians  of  Fresno  and  Madera 
Counties  when  they  went  to  this  neglected  people 
twelve  years  ago.1 

1  It  is  not  necessary  to  read  more  than  one  authentic  history  of 
California  before  the  discovery  is  made  that  the  Indians  fared  no  better 
under  the  rule  of  Spain  and  Mexico  than  during  the  persecutions 
begun  in  the  early  fifties.  The  padres  in  the  voluminous  reports  of 
their  achievements  did  not  record  all  that  took  place  during  their  con- 
quistas  or  convert  hunts.  We  have  the  story  of  one  of  these  raids  upon 
the  mountain  Indians  in  the  narrative  of  Captain  F.  W.  Beechey, 
R.  N.,  commander  of  the  English  ship  Blossom,  who  visited  California 
in  1828.  While  in  California  he  visited  several  missions,  and  after  he 
returned  to  England  recounted  his  experiences  and  observations. 

The  neophytes  of  the  Mission  San  Jose,  related  Captain  Beechey, 
made  an  unsuccessful  raid  upon  a  tribe  named  Cosumnee,  occupying 
territory  in  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  not  a  great  distance  from  some 
of  the  Indian  mission  stations  now  maintained  by  our  Home  Mission 
Boards.  Thirty-four  of  the  raiders  never  returned  to  the  mission.  The 
party  was  overpowered  by  numbers  and  was  obliged  to  seek  safety  in 
flight,  leaving  a  cannon  in  the  woods. 

"  The  padre  was  greatly  displeased  at  the  result  of  the  excursion," 
stated  Captain  Beechey.  "  He  joined  with  his  converted  Indians  in  a 
determination  to  chastise  and  strike  terror  into  the  victorious  tribe 
and,  in  concert  with  the  governor,  planned  an  expedition  against  them. 
The  mission  furnished  money,  arms,  Indians,  and  horses,  and  the 
presidio  troops,  headed  by  Alferez  Sanches,  a  veteran,  who  had  been 
frequently  engaged  with  the  Indians  and  was  acquainted  with  that  part 
of  the  country.  The  expedition  set  out  November  19,  (1828),  and 
we  heard  nothing  of  it  until  the  twenty-seventh.  But  two  days  after 
the  troops  had  taken  to  the  field  some  immense  columns  of  smoke 
rising  above  the  mountains  in  the  direction  of  the  Cosumnes  bespoke 
the  conflagration  of  the  village  of  the  persecuted  gentiles ;  and  on  the 
day  above  mentioned,  the  veteran  Sanches  made  a  triumphant  entry 
into  the  Mission  of  San  Jose",  escorting  forty  miserable  women  and 
children.  The  gun  which  had  been  lost  in  the  first  battle  was  retaken 
and  other  trophies  captured. 

"  This  victory,  so  glorious  according  to  the  ideas  of  the  conquerors, 
was  achieved  with  the  loss  of  only  one  man  .  .  .  but  on  the  part  of  the 
enemy  it  was  considerable,  as  Sanches  the  morning  after  the  battle 
counted  forty-one  men,  women,  and  children  dead.  .  . 

"  The  prisoners  they  had  captured  were  immediately  enrolled  in  the 
list  of  the  mission,  except  a  nice  little  boy  whose  mother  was  shot 
while  running  away  with  him  in  her  arms,  and  he  was  sent  to  the 
presidio  and,  as  I  heard,  given  to  the  Alferez  as  a  reward  for  his  ser 
vices.  The  poor  little  orphan  had  received  a  slight  wound  in  his 
forehead ;  he  wept  bitterly  at  first  and  refused  to  eat,  but  in  time  he 
became  reconciled." 

The  Mono  Indians  at  the  Baptist  Mission  stations  have  their  tradi 
tions  concerning  the  kidnappers  from  missions  and  pueblos.  They 
relate  stories  of  the  visits  of  the  Spanish  friars  who,  along  the  San 
Joaquin,  conducted  convert  hunts,  baptized  great  numbers,  and  then 
left  them  in  their  pagan  wretchedness. 


Last  of  the  Yosemites  5 

There  had  been  many  serious  depredations  com 
mitted  by  Indians  as  well  as  white  men.  As  the 
latter  were  eager  to  acquire  the  choicest  sections  of 
land  they  found  the  Indians  in  their  way.  The  In 
dians,  on  the  other  hand,  looked  upon  the  whites 
as  uncompromising  invaders  who  sought  to  dispos 
sess  them  of  their  homes. 

The  commissioners  appointed  by  the  President  of 
the  United  States  to  act  for  the  best  in  conciliating 
the  Indians  of  the  San  Joaquin  Valley,  did  not  hesi 
tate  to  publish  their  convictions  as  to  the  cause  of 
the  many  disturbances.  During  the  winter  of  1851, 
while  the  State  troops  under  Major  Savage  were 
held  in  leash  to  await  the  issue,  an  investigation 
was  made  by  these  agents  of  the  Government  who 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  miners  and  settlers 
simply  had  reached  out  for  what  they  wanted  and 
that  the  Indians  had  resisted  the  encroachments  to 
the  best  of  their  ability.  While  the  commissioners 
denounced  the  Indians  for  the  murders  and  robberies 
committed  by  them,  they  explained  their  hostility 
on  the  ground  that  the  Indians  looked  upon  the 
whites  as  trespassers  upon  their  territory.  It  was 
intimated  that  traditionally  fresh  in  their  minds, 
also,  were  the  cruelties  of  the  Spanish  invaders  of 
Mexico  and  California  in  their  abortive  attempts 
to  civilize  and  Christianize  the  Indians. 

The  "Mariposa  Battalion,"  consisting  of  two 
hundred  mounted  men,  at  that  time  camped  on  the 
South  Fork  of  the  Merced,  and  organized  by  the 
governor  to  keep  in  subjection  the  Indian  tribes, 
was  placed  under  the  direction  of  the  United  States 


6  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

commissioners  as  soon  as  the  latter  arrived  in  the 
disputed  territory.  The  battalion  has  been  de 
scribed  as  a  body  of  hardy,  resolute  pioneers,  many 
of  whom  had  seen  Indian  service  and  had  fought 
their  way  against  the  savages  across  the  plains; 
some  had  served  in  the  war  with  Mexico,  and  nearly 
all  had  been  under  military  discipline  of  one  kind 
or  another.  The  commander  was  Major  James  D. 
Savage,  one  of  the  most  enterprising  and  daring 
Indian  traders  of  gold-digging  days. 

Assurances  sent  to  all  the  tribes,  that,  if  the  In 
dians  would  come  in  and  make  terms  with  the  com 
missioners,  they  would  be  given  food  and  clothing 
and  guaranteed  protection  on  the  reservations  al 
lotted  them,  combined  with  threats  that  should 
they  refuse  to  surrender,  war  would  be  made  upon 
them,  until  all  were  destroyed,  seemingly  had  no  effect 
upon  the  obdurate  Tenaya.  Finally  a  special  envoy 
was  sent  to  him  with  the  result  that  soon  afterward 
the  old  chief  walked  alone  to  the  white  man's 
camp  and  solemnly  inquired  of  Major  Savage  why 
all  the  Indians  must  be  herded  upon  the  plains  of 
the  San  Joaquin  Valley. 

"  My  people  do  not  want  anything  from  the 
'  Great  Father,'  "  he  declared.  "  The  Great  Spirit 
is  our  father,  and  has  always  supplied  us  with  all 
we  need.  We  do  not  want  anything  from  white 
men.  Our  women  are  able  to  work.  Go,  then;  let 
us  remain  in  the  mountains  where  we  were  born; 
where  the  ashes  of  our  fathers  have  been  given  to 
the  winds.  I  have  said  enough." 

Major  Savage  firmly  insisted  that  the  Yosemites 


Last  of  the  Yosemites  1 

should  go  to  the  commissioners,  and  Tenaya  finally 
promised  that  if  allowed  to  return  to  his  people 
he  would  bring  them  back.  Accordingly  the  old 
Ah-wah-na-chee-Mono-Yosemite  was  allowed  to  de 
part. 

Returning  to  the  military  headquarters  the  next 
day  Tenaya  reported  that  his  band  was  on  its  way 
and  soon  would  be  in  camp.  When  a  full  day  passed 
without  the  appearance  of  the  hold-outs,  the  old 
chief  explained,  with  many  gestures,  how  steep  was 
the  trail  leading  out  of  the  valley  and  how  deep 
the  snow  that  lay  upon  the  divide.  Still  another 
day  went  by  and  the  Yosemites  did  not  come.  Major 
Savage  then  announced  his  intention  to  go  to  the 
village  of  the  Yosemites,  and,  if  he  could  not  find 
Tenaya's  band  there,  to  follow  the  Indians  to  their 
hiding-places. 

Tenaya  clearly  betrayed  his  concern.  He  repre 
sented  the  valley  as  such  a  dangerous  locality  in  the 
winter  that  should  the  soldiers  go  down  there  with 
their  horses,  they  never  would  be  able  to  get  them 
out.  His  description  of  the  "  deep  valley  "  which 
no  white  man  had  seen,  served  only  to  fire  the 
minds  of  the  hardy  pioneers  with  a  great  desire  to 
visit  it.  The  more  explanations  the  old  chief  made 
as  to  the  impossibility  of  making  the  trip,  the  more 
determined  became  Major  Savage  to  attempt  it.  A 
call  was  made  for  volunteers,  and  every  man  in 
the  two  companies  stepped  forward.  As  it  was 
necessary  to  leave  a  large  detail  of  camp  guards, 
one  of  the  captains  proposed  a  foot-race  as  the  best 
method  of  determining  the  personnel  of  the  invad- 


8  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

ing  force.  So  anxious  were  some  of  the  pioneers 
to  explore  the  mysterious  valley  that  they  ran  bare 
footed  in  the  snow. 

After  an  early  breakfast  the  following  morning, 
the  order  was  given  to  fall  in,  and  the  ascent  to 
the  top  of  the  divide  between  the  South  Fork  and 
the  main  branch  of  the  Merced  River  was  begun, 
Major  Savage  leading  with  Tenaya  as  his  unwilling 
guide.  The  snow  packed  readily,  and  good  time 
was  made  by  the  column. 

When  half-way  to  Yosemite  Valley  (as  yet  un 
known  and  unnamed  except  by  Indians)  the  volun 
teers  met  seventy-two  Yosemites.  The  major 
counted  them  as  they  filed  past,  and  when  he  ques 
tioned  Tenaya  as  to  where  the  others  of  his  band 
could  be  found,  the  old  chief  replied: 

"  This  is  all  of  my  people  that  are  willing  to  go 
with  me  to  the  plains.  Many  that  have  been  with 
me  are  from  other  tribes.  They  have  taken  wives 
from  my  band;  all  have  gone  with  their  wives  and 
children  to  the  Tuolumne  River  and  the  Mono 
rancherias." 

From  the  band  Major  Savage  chose  a  young  In 
dian  as  guide,  dismissed  Tenaya,  and  declared  that 
he  would  go  on  to  the  valley  to  ascertain  the  loca 
tion  of  the  village  and  the  hiding-places  of  those 
who  had  remained  behind.  This  decision  was  met 
with  the  unanimous  approval  of  his  men. 

"  You  may  return  to  camp  with  your  people," 
the  major  told  Tenaya,  "  and  I  will  take  one  of 
your  young  men  with  me.  There  are  but  few  of 
your  people  here.  Your  tribe  is  large.  I  am  going 


Last  of  the  Yosemites  9 

to  your  village  to  see  your  people,  who  will  not 
come  with  you.  They  will  come  with  me  if  I  find 
them." 

When  the  young  Indian,  selected  as  the  new 
guide,  went  to  the  head  of  the  column,  it  was  seen 
that  Tenaya  was  shaken  by  an  emotion  he  could 
not  hide. 

"  I  will  go  with  my  people ;  my  young  man  shall 
go  with  you  to  my  village.  You  will  not  find  my 
people  there.  I  do  not  know  where  they  are.  My 
tribe  is  small — not  large  as  the  white  chief  has  said. 
Those  of  the  Paiute  and  Mono  tribes  have  gone  back 
to  their  homes.  I  have  talked  with  my  people  and 
told  them  that  I  was  going  to  see  the  white  chiefs 
sent  to  make  peace.  I  was  told  that  I  was  growing 
old,  and  it  was  well  that  I  should  go,  but  that  young 
and  strong  men  can  find  plenty  to  eat  in  the  moun 
tains;  therefore  why  should  they  go  to  be  corralled 
like  horses  and  cattle?  My  heart  has  been  sore 
since  that  talk,  but  I  am  now  willing  to  go,  for  it 
is  best  for  my  people  that  I  do  so." 

The  column  passed  on  and  left  him.  As  he  stood 
there  by  himself,  for  his  band  had  continued  the 
march  westward  toward  the  San  Joaquin  Valley, 
he  presented  a  figure  of  utter  dejection  and  loneli 
ness,  exemplifying  in  his  own  person  the  woes  that 
had  come  to  his  race  from  the  beginning  of  white 
aggression  until  this  hour  of  his  downfall.  He  had 
made  a  pathetic  speech.  There  lay  back  of  it  the 
despair  of  one  who  saw  all  his  cherished  hopes 
completely  shattered.  His  spirit  broke  when  he 
saw  the  soldiers  ride  eastward.  White  horsemen 


10  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

were  about  to  enter  his  beloved  valley,  Ah-wah-nee, 
and  his  fears  told  him  that  the  prophecy  of  an  old 
Ah-wah-ne-chee  medicine-man  was  about  to  have 
its  fulfilment.  This  old  soothsayer,  who  had  been 
a  great  friend  of  Tenaya's  father,  had  said  that 
should  white  horsemen  invade  the  hidden  valley, 
Tenaya  would  be  the  last  chief  of  the  Ah-wah-ne- 
chees  (Yosemites)  and  that  his  tribe  would  be 
scattered  and  destroyed,  but  as  long  as  Tenaya  de 
fended  the  valley  from  the  encroachments  of  white 
men  and  admitted  to  his  tribe  all  who  chose  to  come 
to  him,  the  Valley  of  Refuge  would  be  a  place  of 
peace  and  happiness. 

That  the  brisk  "  Forward  march ! "  of  Major 
Savage  spelled  annihilation  for  the  Yosemites 
events  amply  proved.  Over  the  partly  broken  trail 
the  horsemen  traveled  rapidly  and  at  sundown 
came  into  full  view  of  the  valley.  On  this  wintry 
day  Yosemite  indeed  was  discovered,  but  that  the 
event  was  intimately  associated  with  a  determined 
campaign  on  the  part  of  white  men  to  dislodge  the 
Indians  from  their  mountain  retreats  added  a 
somber  touch  to  the  achievement.  It  is  recorded 
that  Major  Savage  and  most  of  his  men  did  not 
seem  to  be  conscious  of  the  significance  of  the  dis 
covery  and  made  rather  light  of  one  man's  serious 
attempt  to  give  the  valley  a  name.  This  soldier 
who,  thirty  years  afterward,  wrote  an  account  of  the 
expedition,  proposed  that  the  tremendous  country 
be  named  Yosemite  (meaning  grizzly  bear)  after 
Tenaya's  band,  the  members  of  which  were  known 
to  other  tribes  as  the  "  Grizzlies." 


Last  of  the  Yosemites  11 

About  the  camp-fire  at  the  close  of  that  first  day, 
March  21,  1851,  with  much  laughter  and  joking, 
the  soldiers  adopted  the  name.  The  man  who  sug 
gested  this  name  and  to  whom  the  nation  is  in 
debted  for  his  record  of  the  events  connected  with 
the  discovery  of  Yosemite  Valley,  was  Dr.  L.  H. 
Bunnell,  of  San  Francisco. 

When  the  column  reached  a  point  where  a  full 
view  of  El  Capitan  was  possible,  the  face  of  the 
great  cliff  was  shadowed  by  the  declining  sun. 

"  None  but  those  who  have  visited  this  most  won 
derful  valley,"  wrote  Doctor  Bunnell,  "  can  ever 
imagine  the  feelings  with  which  I  looked  upon  the 
view  that  was  there  presented.  The  grandeur  of 
the  scene  was  softened  by  the  haze  that  hung  over 
the  valley,  light  as  gossamer,  and  by  the  clouds 
which  partially  dimmed  the  higher  cliffs  and  moun 
tains.  This  obscurity  of  vision  but  increased  the 
awe  with  which  I  beheld  it,  and,  as  I  looked,  a 
peculiar,  exalted  sensation  seemed  to  fill  my  whole 
being,  and  I  found  my  eyes  in  tears  with  emotion." 

A  short  distance  above  the  Cathedral  Rocks,  a 
small  rancheria  was  discovered,  but  the  huts  were 
unoccupied.  The  invaders  found  other  huts  but  no 
Indians.  Lack  of  food  and  of  a  knowledge  of  the 
trails  and  passes  soon  drove  Major  Savage  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  would  be  impossible  on  this  ex 
pedition  to  ferret  out  the  members  of  Tenaya's 
band,  who  undoubtedly  were  hidden  in  the  cliffs 
and  among  the  rocky  gorges  and  passes.  As  a  war 
policy,  the  order  was  given  to  destroy  the  huts  and 
stores  of  the  Indians  and  thereby  reduce  them  to 


12  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

such  straits  that  they  would  be  compelled  to  come 
in  and  join  the  other  Indians  on  the  reservation. 

The  caches  discovered  were  chiefly  acorns,  the 
principal  source  of  diet  of  the  Indians  of  the  Sierra 
Nevadas  at  that  time  and  used  extensively  by  all 
the  tribes  today.  It  was  estimated  that,  upon  this 
occasion,  from  four  to  six  hundred  bushels  of 
acorns  were  destroyed.  In  addition  to  acorns  were 
found  quantities  of  pinon  nuts,  chinkapin  nuts, 
grass  seeds,  wild  rye  or  oats  (scorched),  dried 
worms,  scorched  grasshoppers,  and  the  dried  larvse 
of  various  insects.  The  supplies  of  furniture  were 
very  scanty  with  the  exception  of  baskets,  some  of 
which  were  of  extraordinary  workmanship  and 
beauty. 

Tenaya  and  his  band  escaped  from  the  guard  de 
tailed  to  bring  them  to  the  commissioners'  camp. 
Even  with  their  huts  and  villages  burned  and  their 
supplies  destroyed,  they  chose  to  suffer  cold  and 
hunger  rather  than  be  deprived  of  their  liberty. 
Fleeing  to  the  canons  of  the  Tuolumne,  they  felt 
secure  in  their  retreat,  hoping  to  live  through  until 
the  snow  melted,  when  they  could  go  to  the  Mono 
tribe  and  find  an  abiding-place. 

The  second  expedition  to  dislodge  the  Yosemites 
was  marked  by  a  tragedy  forever  associated  with 
the  three  rocky  peaks  in  Yosemite  Valley  called 
"  Three  Brothers,"  so  named  because  three  sons  of 
Chief  Tenaya  were  made  prisoners  near  them.  The 
youngest  son,  soon  after  his  capture,  was  wantonly 
murdered  by  his  guard,  who  tied  this  Indian  and 
one  of  his  brothers  to  a  tree  in  such  a  way  as  to 


Last  of  the  Yosemites  13 

tempt  them  to  untie  each  other  and  try  to  escape. 
When  Tenaya  was  brought  into  camp  as  a  captive 
and  saw  the  body  of  his  son  stretched  upon  the 
ground  where  the  boy  had  been  dropped  by  the 
white  man's  bullet,  he  halted  for  a  moment,  a  slight 
quivering  of  the  lips  alone  betraying  his  emotion. 
Then  he  raised  his  head  and  cast  his  eyes  over  the 
camp  as  if  in  search  of  the  body  of  the  other  son, 
the  fellow  captive  of  the  one  whose  body  lay  dead 
before  him.  Not  a  sound  issued  from  his  tightly 
closed  lips.  Passively,  silently,  he  accompanied  his 
•captors  to  their  camp  on  the  south  side  of  the  river. 

The  old  chief  was  treated  with  extreme  kindness 
with  the  hope  that  his  sorrow  would  abate  and  that 
he  would  call  in  his  people.  After  a  time  he  prom 
ised  to  do  this.  At  night,  upon  some  commanding 
rise  of  land,  he  would  call  as  if  to  some  one  a  great 
distance  away.  Night  after  night  he  did  this,  and 
then  one  day  his  grief  which,  in  his  pride,  he  had 
endeavored  to  conceal,  completely  overcame  him. 
Standing  before  the  commanding  officer  of  the  bat 
talion,  he  cried: 

"  Kill  me,  sir  captain !  Yes,  kill  me,  as  you  killed 
my  son.  You  have  made  me  sorrowful,  my  life 
dark;  you  killed  the  child  of  my  heart,  why  not 
kill  the  father?  But  wait  a  little;  when  I  am  dead 
I  will  call  to  my  people  to  come  to  you.  .  .  I  will 
not  leave  my  home,  but  be  with  the  spirits  among 
the  rocks,  the  waterfalls,  in  the  river,  and  in  the 
winds." 

The  aged  chief  of  the  Yosemites  appeared  many 
years  younger  during  the  few  minutes  his  old-time 


14  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

spirit  was  reasserting  itself,  and  the  soldiers 
grouped  about  him  could  not  help  but  feel  a  genuine 
respect  for  him.  But  it  was  the  last  flicker  of  a 
dying  flame.  The  mighty  spirit  had  been  broken. 

When  the  white  soldiers  left  the  valley  with  their 
captives  who  had  been  compelled  by  their  hunger 
to  surrender,  they  passed  a  lovely  little  lake  where 
they  had  camped  the  night  before.  They  had 
named  the  lake  "  Tenaya  "  because  upon  its  shores 
the  old  chief's  people  had  been  found.  As  Tenaya 
looked  upon  the  calm  beauty  of  the  lake  that  mir 
rored  the  cliffs,  the  pines,  and  the  shores  he  had 
loved  so  well,  his  countenance  saddened,  and  he 
bowed  his  head  to  his  breast.  With  the  last  rem 
nant  of  his  tribe  he  was  taking  a  farewell  view  of 
the  matchless  valley  which  had  been  HOME.  On 
the  shores  of  the  lake  his  people  had  built  their  last 
wigwams.  From  Ah-wah-nee  the  Americans  were 
to  conduct  him  to  a  strip  of  land  somewhere  in  the 
San  Joaquin  Valley  which  the  United  States  com 
missioners  had  set  aside  for  him  and  his  people, 
and  from  which  it  was  intended  they  should  never 
depart. 


II 

WAIFS  OF  THE  SIERRAS 

mismanagement  characterized  the  ad- 
vJT  ministration  of  the  reservations  set  aside  for 
the  Indians  of  California  in  1851.  The  "  campaign 
with  flour,"  while  effective  in  bringing  in  the  tribes, 
did  not  produce  permanent  good  results.  High  prices 
were  demanded  of  the  Indians  for  commodities  in 
tended  for  free  distribution;  choice  lots  were  sold 
at  high  rates  to  the  miners ;  in  one  instance,  it  was 
shown  that  only  two-thirds  of  a  contract  for  beef 
actually  was  delivered  to  the  Indians  for  whom  the 
Government  had  purchased  it.  As  the  reservations 
included  several  mineral  belts  and  cut  into  valuable 
agricultural  lands  coveted  by  settlers,  vigorous  pro 
tests  were  sent  to  Washington,  the  objectors  urg 
ing  that  under  the  acquisition  of  California  from 
Mexico  the  natives  had  no  inherent  right  to  the 
soil.  Congress  did  not  ratify  the  treaties,  and  the 
Indians  of  great  sections  of  California  became 
homeless  waifs.  Then  followed  the  rapid  advance 
ment  of  the  settlement  of  the  valleys,  marked  every 
where  by  an  even  more  revolting  treatment  of  the 
natives.  The  land-grabbers,  emboldened  by  Con 
gressional  repudiation  of  the  treaties,  began  to 
drive  the  Indians  into  the  barren  mountain  districts 
from  homesteads  which  they  had  occupied  for  gen- 

15 


16  By -Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

erations  although,  in  most  cases,  either  because  of 
their  ignorance  in  such  matters  or  because  of  their 
position  as  non-citizens,  they  held  no  preemption 
or  title-deeds  for  the  land. 

From  the  spring  of  1856  to  the  close  of  1859  the 
relentless  driving  of  the  Indians  from  their  hunt 
ing-,  fishing-,  and  fruit-grounds  was  continued.  In 
most  cases  the  Indians  were  helpless  in  the  face 
of  the  more  resourceful  opposition.  They  were  not 
the  wards  of  the  United  States  or  of  California. 
They  had  no  one  to  champion  their  cause.  As  the 
counties  could  furnish  white  forces  sufficiently 
powerful  to  put  down  any  local  uprising,  no  ap 
peals  were  sent  to  Washington  for  assistance  as 
were  sent  from  the  more  sparsely  settled  portions 
of  the  frontier.  Consequently  for  the  California 
Indian,  as  a  sequel  of  bad  behavior,  there  was  not 
the  fat  ration  and  the  protection  of  the  reservation 
as  so  frequently  was  the  case  when  the  savage 
fighters  of  the  plains  broke  from  restraint  and  went 
on  the  war-path. 

Until  within  a  dozen  years  ago  there  have  been 
remnants  of  the  persecuted  Indian  tribes  of  the  San 
Joaquin  Valley  living  in  the  remote  canons  and 
pockets  of  the  Sierras,  like  wild  creatures  of  the 
wilderness.  Their  food  has  consisted  of  acorns,  in 
sects,  roots,  and  herbs  and  such  game  as  they  could 
procure.  Their  homes  have  been  huts  or  caves  as 
fortune  decreed.  With  hardly  any  knowledge  of 
agriculture,  and  for  the  most  part  devoid  of  land, 
schools,  Christian  guidance,  or  employment,  they 
have  been  shunned  almost  completely  by  the  whites, 


Waifs  of  the  Sierras  17 

when  not  being  exploited  by  unscrupulous  traders 
and  bootleggers. 

After  suffering  the  loss  of  everything  that  made 
for  tribal  happiness,  the  Mono,  not  an  exception 
among  California  Indians,  became  a  wanderer  in 
the  waste  places  with  nothing  to  show  for  his  con 
tact  with  white  men  except  a  knowledge  of  their 
vices  and  a  craving  for  their  red  liquor,  handicaps 
to  be  added  to  the  evil  traits  and  practises  pecu 
liarly  tribal  in  their  viciousness  and  destroying 
power. 

Within  the  tribes  the  influence  of  the  medicine 
men  was  supreme  and  wholly  bad.  These  avaricious 
charlatans  extracted  large  benefactions  for  their 
"  fandangos,"  their  cry  dances  for  the  dead,  and 
their  sorceries  for  the  living.  Possessing  methods 
of  destroying  those  who  did  not  subject  themselves 
to  their  will,  or  for  whose  death  others  were  will 
ing  to  pay  the  price  in  money  or  commodities,  the 
medicine-men  held  the  Indians  in  their  power, 
through  fear,  for  generation  after  generation. 
Not  until  our  missionaries  came  were  the  eyes  of 
the  Indians  opened  to  the  fraud  and  cunning  of 
these  tribal  pests.  Marriage  had  no  religious  sig 
nificance;  it  was  simply  the  occasion  for  the  bar 
tering  of  women  for  commodities  desired  by 
scheming  parents. 

The  demand  for  laborers  in  the  grape  harvest 
brought  a  large  number  of  Indians  into  Clovis  dur 
ing  the  summer  of  1907.  They  were  looked  upon 
as  inferior  help  to  be  used  only  when  better  could 
not  be  obtained.  So  degraded  were  those  Indians 


18  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

that  the  majority  of  them  yielded  to  their  craving 
for  whisky  after  working  a  few  days,  the  bootlegger 
and  the  gambler  gathering  in  their  earnings. 
There  were  four  saloons  open  in  town,  and  the  In 
dians  had  no  trouble  in  getting  whisky  as  long  as 
their  money  held  out.  Their  drunken  orgies  fre 
quently  resulted  in  bloody  frays  and  the  nights  were 
made  horrible  by  the  barbarous  chants  of  the  par 
ticipants  in  the  weird  gambling-game  with  sticks 
known  to  nearly  every  Indian  tribe  in  America. 

One  day  a  scene  that  no  words  can  describe  took 
place  on  one  of  the  business  streets  of  the  town. 
A  crowd  of  white  men  and  boys  surrounded  a 
drunken  Indian  woman  and  shamelessly  made  sport 
of  her  unfortunate  condition.  Doubtless  few  indi 
viduals  in  the  crowd  thought  of  the  long  chain  of 
events  that  had  brought  this  hapless  Indian  to  the 
depths  of  degradation.  How  much  of  her  misfor 
tune  was  due  to  unfavorable  contacts  which  genera 
tions  of  her  people  had  had  with  the  white  man's 
civilization,  no  one  can  say.  There  chanced  to  pass 
that  way,  however,  a  man  who  sensed  keenly  the 
situation.  We  rejoice  in  the  privilege  of  recording 
here  the  name  of  Rev.  W.  C.  Cook,  at  that  time 
pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  Church  of  Clovis,  Calif. 
As  he  gazed  upon  that  disgraceful  spectacle  this 
question  stirred  his  heart,  "  Can  not  something  be 
done  for  these  Indians?"  As  there  was  no  man 
who  could  answer  the  question,  there  was  the  sure 
hope  that  God  could  furnish  one.  The  outcome  of 
the  minister's  prayers  was  the  command  from  the 
Father  of  all  races,  "  Go  and  do  what  you  can." 


Waifs  of  the  Sierras  19 

Mr.  Cook  found  no  rest  until  he  made  a  move 
in  behalf  of  the  Indians.  He  received  a  request 
from  J.  W.  Sharer  to  preach  to  the  dozen  or  more 
Indian  grape-pickers  on  the  latter's  ranch.  The 
following  Sunday  afternoon,  he  accepted  the  invi 
tation  and  although  few  of  his  sentences  were 
understood  by  the  Indians,  there  being  no  inter 
preter  available,  it  may  be  said  that  the  day  was 
epochal.  This  pastor  has  related  how  he  looked 
into  the  stoical  faces  of  the  Indians  while  he  spoke 
to  them  and  obtained  a  vision  of  what  should  be 
done  for  such  benighted  people.  The  vision  he 
later  translated  into  these  words:  "A  missionary 
must  come  and  live  among  these  people  and  slowly, 
patiently  show  them  the  way  to  Christ  and  the  true 
life.  There  is  no  short  cut.  It  will  take  years, 
perhaps  decades,  to  do  this.  Only  patient  toil  will 
get  them  out  of  the  mire." 

Mrs.  Mary  H.  Temple,  a  benevolent  Presbyterian 
woman  of  Clovis,  at  this  critical  time,  arrived  in 
dependently  at  the  same  conclusion.  The  two  con 
ferred  and  decided  to  call  a  meeting  of  the  people 
of  Clovis  to  discuss  the  possibility  of  doing  some 
thing  for  the  Indians.  At  this  public  meeting  held 
in  the  local  Baptist  church,  October  30,  1907,  the 
Clovis  Indian  Missionary  Society  was  formed.  This 
later  became  merged  into  the  Fresno  County  Indian 
Association,  an  organization  which  was  instru 
mental  in  getting  the  Baptist  denomination  to 
establish  the  first  station  for  Mono  Indians  at 
Auberry,  Fresno  County,  Calif.,  with  Miss  Ida  M. 
Schofield  as  the  first  missionary.  This  was  done  in 
c 


20  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

the  spring  of  1909.  Six  months  later  Miss  Scho- 
field  was  joined  by  Miss  Emma  C.  Christensen. 
Both  were  missionaries  of  the  Woman's  American 
Baptist  Home  Mission  Society,  working  under  the 
direction  of  the  Northern  California  Baptist  State 
Convention. 

The  following  summer,  the  pastor  who  had  wit 
nessed  the  pathetic  street  scene  described  above, 
was  given  an  experience  which  thrilled  his  soul  and 
gave  him  a  new  sense  of  the  power  of  God  to  create 
beauty  from  man-made  wrecks.  He  said  that  about 
dark  one  day,  a  Mono  Indian  came  to  the  parsonage 
to  deliver  a  message  from  the  missionaries  at  Au- 
berry.  The  Indian  could  not  return  home  that 
night,  and  the  hospitality  of  the  parsonage  was  ex 
tended.  The  quiet  evening  was  spent  in  a  one 
sided  conversation,  during  which  the  minister's 
questions  were  answered  by  guttural  monosyllables, 
yet  with  a  smiling  countenance.  Real  fellowship 
prevailed,  the  bond  of  union  being  their  love  for 
the  same  blessed  Jesus,  for  this  Indian  was  one  of 
several  recent  converts  at  Auberry. 

It  came  time  to  retire;  the  house  became  quiet. 
Then  suddenly,  out  of  the  stillness,  the  minister 
heard  a  voice,  a  low,  earnest  voice,  pleading  in  a 
strange  tongue. 

In  the  adjoining  room  a  Mono  was  bowed  in 
prayer. 

The  name  of  Jesus  in  the  Mono  tongue  .  .  .  then 
distinctly  the  names  of  Miss  Schofield,  Miss  Chris 
tensen  .  .  .  the  name  of  the  minister  in  whose  home 
this  Mono  Indian  had  been  given  a  bed  for  the 


Waifs  of  the  Sierras  21 

night  ...  a  Mono  asking  God's  blessing  for  his 
white  friends.  .  . 

Up  there  in  the  rugged  foothills  of  the  Sierras 
something  had  taken  place  during  the  year  that 
had  passed. 


Ill 

THE  LITTLE  MOTHER 

THE  stage  scheduled  to  climb  the  mountain  road 
from  Friant  to  Auberry,  Calif.,  one  afternoon  in 
the  spring  of  1909,  was  late  in  reaching  the  rail- 
end.  There  were  two  passengers,  both  women,  at 
the  little  terminal  station  waiting  for  it. 

Miss  Ida  M.  Schofield,  the  first  Baptist  mission 
ary  appointed  to  work  among  the  Mono  Indians,1  was 
making  her  initial  trip  into  the  Sierras.  Many 
times  had  this  little  woman  gone  on  long  journeys 
alone.  As  a  missionary  among  the  Indians  of  Ari 
zona  and  Oklahoma,  her  work  had  taken  her  to 
many  remote  districts  on  all  sorts  of  mountain  and 
prairie  roads  and  in  all  kinds  of  conveyances.  She 
was  looking  forward  with  cheerful  anticipation  to 
the  opening  of  the  work  in  the  new  field. 

The  other  prospective  stage  passenger  was  a 
motherly-looking  woman  who  quickly  won  Miss 
Schofield's  regard  by  her  friendly  attentions. 

"May  I  ask  where  you  are  going?"  asked  the 
Californian. 

"  I'm  going  to  Auberry,"  replied  the  missionary. 

"  You  don't  tell  me !  Now  that's  where  I  live. 
What  folks  are  you  going  to  visit  there?  " 

1  See  table  on  pages  112  and  113  for  statistical  material  with  regard 
to  California  Indian  Missions. 

22 


The  Little  Mother  23 

"  I  am  a  missionary  sent  to  work  among  the 
Indians." 

"  But  where  are  you  going  to  live?  "  The  moun 
tain  woman's  questions  were  not  inspired  by  mere 
curiosity.  She  felt  a  real  concern  for  the  stranger, 
for  she  knew  that  the  one  boarding-house  at  Au- 
berry  at  that  time  afforded  no  accommodations  for 
women.  "  And  did  you  expect  to  find  a  hotel  at 
Auberry  ?  " 

"  I  heard  of  one  being  there." 

"  Well,  you  can't  live  at  it.  It  will  be  dark  when 
we  get  to  Auberry,  so  you'd  better  come  home  with 
me.  I  don't  know  where  else  you  can  go." 

The  hospitality  thus  shown  was  extended  to  cover 
more  than  one  night;  after  searching  three  days 
for  a  home  among  the  whites,  Miss  Schofield  was 
obliged  to  give  up  the  hunt  as  a  fruitless  task  and 
prevailed  upon  Mrs.  H.,  her  first  acquaintance  in 
the  Sierras,  to  keep  her. 

"You  have  a  hopeless  task  cut  out  for  you  in 
these  mountains,"  said  a  white  woman  who  had 
refused  to  accept  the  missionary  as  a  boarder. 

"Why  do  you  say  hopeless?"  Miss  Schofield 
asked. 

"  They  have  no  souls.  There  is  no  use  of  your 
staying  among  them." 

Miss  Schofield  could  not  be  daunted  that  way. 
On  the  third  day  after  her  arrival  she  inquired  at 
the  general  store  the  trail  to  Rancheria  Hill,  the 
nearest  Indian  settlement.  Alone  and  on  foot,  she 
started  out  in  search  of  Indian  homes. 

The  long,  winding  trail  that  led  from  the  end  of 


24  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

the  stage  line  over  the  divide  to  the  secluded  places 
where  the  Indians  lived  in  their  squalid  huts  was 
steep  and  rough,  but  it  should  be  named  the  Glory 
Trail.  Over  this  byway  traveled  one  bearing  the 
Glad  News  to  a  benighted  people  who  had  reason 
to  look  upon  the  whites  as  of  no  benefit  to  the  Mono. 
Yet  this  little  woman  won  their  hearts  from  the 
first.  She  could  not  speak  their  language,  and  they 
understood  but  a  few  words  of  hers,  yet  there  is  a 
language  of  the  heart  understood  by  all  races,  in 
all  ages,  and  it  was  understood  by  those  Mono  men, 
women,  and  children.  Mr.  Brendel,  who  later 
came  as  a  general  missionary  to  the  California  In 
dians,  under  appointment  by  the  American  Baptist 
Home  Mission  Society  and  the  Northern  California 
Baptist  State  Convention,  gave  a  fair  definition  of 
that  language  when  he  said,  "They  can  see  it  in 
your  eyes." 

A  quiet,  good  humor  which  no  hardship  or  dis 
appointment  could  extinguish,  a  smile  that  was 
never  patronizing,  and  an  abiding  faith  in  Christ — 
these  were  the  chief  elements  that  made  up  the  per 
sonal  equipment  of  this  woman  who  did  not  hesi 
tate  to  enter  a  strange  field  where  there  was  not  a 
Christian  among  the  Indians  and  where  all  were 
ignorant  of  Jesus,  our  Saviour.  For  material 
equipment  she  carried  in  a  hand-bag  some  photo 
graphs  of  Indians  in  Arizona  and  Oklahoma  among 
whom  she  had  labored.  The  showing  of  them  served 
as  an  introduction.  In  the  photographs  the  Mono 
Indians  saw  this  strange  white  woman  sitting 
among  other  Indians,  and  they  were  not  slow  to 


The  Little  Mother  25 

catch  the  significance  of  it.  They  knew  then  that 
she  was  a  friend  to  all  Indians.  In  the  hand-bag 
were  colored  pictures  bearing  on  the  life  of  Christ 
and  showing  places  in  Bible  lands.  There  was  also 
Miss  Schofield's  own  Bible. 

The  first  months  of  the  ministry  of  this  mission 
ary  to  the  Mono  Indians  were  stormy  ones.  Nearly 
every  day  during  that  spring  it  rained.  Frequently 
she  was  obliged  to  jump  across  streams  of  water 
that  rushed  down  the  mountainsides.  There  were 
many  remote  trails  to  follow,  for  the  "  Little 
Mother"  (Utumutse  Tabea),  as  the  Indians  soon 
learned  to  call  her,  had  taken  up  her  lonely  task 
in  earnest  and  considered  no  home  too  distant  or 
inaccessible  to  visit. 

She  began  by  holding  all-day  meetings  in  Indian 
homes  and,  when  it  grew  warmer,  under  the  trees. 
The  noonday  meal  was  furnished  by  the  family  at 
whose  home  the  meeting  was  held,  with  acorn 
mush  as  the  principal  Mono  dish,  with  a  generous 
contribution  of  bread  and  coffee  by  the  missionary. 
From  the  beginning  the  attendance  at  these  meet 
ings  was  large.  Sewing  classes  were  conducted  in 
connection  with  them. 

A  few  weeks  after  her  arrival  at  the  H.  ranch 
Miss  Schofield  transferred  her  abode  to  a  rough 
cabin  owned  by  the  same  people.  For  sleeping 
quarters  she  used  a  tent  until  the  December  rains 
began.  And  in  October,  six  months  after  she  began 
the  work,  the  Little  Mother  was  cheered  by  the 
coming  of  Miss  Emma  C.  Christensen,  a  brilliant 
young  woman  whose  consecration  in  behalf  of  the 


26  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

Mono  forms  one  of  the  brightest  chapters  in  the 
history  of  the  religious  growth  of  the  Baptist  young 
people  of  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  from  whose  ranks 
she  came. 

In  December  the  two  missionaries  became  the 
happy  possessors  of  a  14  by  21  tent.  And  let  us 
not  forget  to  record  that  the  Hopi  Indians  in  Ari 
zona,  among  whom  Miss  Schofield  had  spent  four 
useful  years,  contributed  ten  dollars  toward  its  pur 
chase.  A  few  benches  and  tables  comprised  its 
furnishings.  The  Indians  gladly  gave  consent  to  its 
being  set  up  on  Rancheria  Hill  to  serve  as  school- 
house  on  week-days  and  meeting-house  on  Sundays. 
Here  began  the  first  day-school  for  the  Indians  in 
this  remote  district. 

In  the  meantime  Rev.  W.  C.  Cook  and  Mr.  Kel- 
sey,  special  Indian  agent,  discovered  a  half-section 
of  land  in  Hudson  Basin  above  Auberry  that  could 
be  purchased  at  a  low  figure.  The  government, 
having  in  mind  the  needs  of  these  destitute  In 
dians,  bought  the  land  and  surveyed  one  hundred 
acres  into  five-acre  tracts  to  be  allotted  to  the  In 
dians  as  home  sites.  A  forty-acre  ranch  was  se 
cured  for  a  mission  station,  the  Baptist  young  peo 
ple  of  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  paying  for  it.  Upon 
this  land  was  an  old  house  and  a  ramshackle  barn. 

When  there  are  two  to  plan  and  work  together 
tasks  are  lighter  and  life  is  sweeter.  To  enrich  this 
record  of  Baptist  home  missionary  achievement, 
some  happy  personal  accounts  of  the  days  which 
these  two  women  missionaries  spent  together  in  the 
Sierras,  are  given  in  the  next  chapter.  To  obtain 


The  Little  Mother  27 

them  the  mother  of  Miss  Christensen  made  a  trip 
one  day  last  winter  to  a  ranch  home  where  a  bundle 
of  cherished  letters  lay  at  the  bottom  of  a  family 
trunk.  To  select  certain  passages  from  these  let 
ters  for  use  here  has  been  a  privilege  and  a  joy. 


IV 
HAND-IN-HAND  IN  MONOLAND 

HER  FIRST  MONO  SERVICE 

October  4,  1909. 

WE  put  the  bread,  coffee,  and  sugar  in  sacks 
for  the  Indians  and  then  studied  awhile.  At 
ten  o'clock  we  started  up  Rancheria  Hill  and  met 
our  interpreter  coming  down  with  a  pig  which  he 
had  sold  to  one  of  the  white  men  who  tries  to  gain 
the  best  of  the  Indians  every  chance  he  gets.  So 
he  is  very  kind  to  Miss  Schofield.  He  is  anxious  to 
keep  on  the  good  side  of  her ;  and  he  is  always  very 
pleasant  to  me.  If  he  thinks  he  can  buy  us  as 
cheaply  as  that  he  is  sorely  mistaken.  Miss  Scho- 
field  will  fight  for  the  Indians. 

We  met  at  Mrs.  John  Wesley's  home.  She  is 
very  nice  and  is  one  of  the  Indians  who  have  pro 
fessed  Christ.  She  had  her  house  nicely  cleaned  up. 
There  was  an  open  fireplace  where  a  kettle  hung 
with  beans  or  cow-peas  cooking  for  dinner;  also  a 
kettle  with  water  for  the  coffee  we  brought. 

There  were  quite  a  number  of  women  there,  and 
when  we  entered  the  room  they  began  grunting, 
laughing,  and  talking.  They  inspected  everything 
that  I  wore.  When  they  see  anything  new,  they 
just  laugh  and  laugh  and  think  it  all  very  funny. 
28 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  29 

Miss  Schofield  and  I  were  given  a  seat  on  one 
side  of  the  room,  and  the  women  with  their 
papooses  in  their  cradles,  the  men,  and  the  children 
sat  on  the  floor,  except  Bill  Sherman,  our  inter 
preter,  and  a  few  others,  who  sat  on  benches. 

Miss  Schofield  was  very  hoarse,  so  I  led  the  sing 
ing.  We  sang  "Jesus  Loves  Me,  This  I  Know," 
"  Oh,  How  I  Love  Jesus,"  and  "  Come  to  Jesus." 
I  prayed,  and  Miss  Schofield  read  the  parable  of 
the  seed-sowing.  She  then  gave  them  a  little  talk. 

Sherman  would  sit  like  a  statue  and  listen  while 
Miss  Schofield  spoke  a  few  sentences.  Then  she 
would  stop,  and  he  would  translate.  It's  just  like 
talking  to  a  phonograph.  He  doesn't  look  at  the 
people  at  all.  He  stares  straight  ahead  all  the  time. 
We  talk  it  into  him,  and  then  he  talks  it  out. 

We  then  sang  some  more  songs  and  had  dinner. 
They  spread  an  oilcloth  on  the  floor,  put  some  plates 
around,  and  dished  up  the  beans  and  coffee.  The 
bread  was  cut  and  put  into  a  big  pan  set  in  the 
middle.  They  fixed  a  place  for  us  at  a  table  Miss 
Schofield  had  helped  John  Wesley  to  build.  You 
should  hear  her  tell  of  the  process.  We  ate  some 
of  their  beans  too.  (Note:  That  is  the  way  to  win 
the  heart  of  a  Mono.) 

After  all  had  eaten,  the  dishes  were  cleared  away 
and  the  floor  swept.  Then  we  had  meeting  again. 
I  read  the  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son  and  talked 
awhile.  It  isn't  what  anybody  would  call  easy  to 
talk  through  a  phonograph  in  little  bits  at  a  time. 
After  singing  some  more,  our  meeting  was  brought 
to  a  close. 


30  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

Miss  Schofield  is  so  jolly — 

Well,  we  have  been  over  to  Hudson  Basin  to  see 
the  new  mission  grounds.  It  is  way  down  deep, 
with  two  great  hills  on  either  side.  There  is  a 
spring  there.  The  house  has  been  abandoned  so 
long  it  looks  just  awful.  Dirty,  full  of  holes,  and 
windowless.  The  rats  and  fleas  just  run  the  place. 

THE  FIRST  MONO  PRAYER 

October  11,  1909. 

I  guess  Mrs.  H.  has  decided  to  let  us  stay  in  the 
cabin  on  her  place.  We  pay  her  five  dollars  a  month 
now.  She  won't  say  that  it  is  a  permanent  arrange 
ment,  but  Mr.  H.  has  moved  the  hen-house  up  to 
be  our  wood-shed  and  has  hauled  three  cords  of 
wood  into  it  for  us,  so  we  think  they  must  be  ex 
pecting  us  to  stay.  They  are  so  good  to  us. 

We  had  a  fine  meeting  yesterday.  I  led  in  the 
morning  and  Miss  Schofield  (Mother)  in  the  after 
noon.  We  had  a  fine  dinner.  Chicken  stew  (you 
didn't  have  that!),  beans,  squash,  bread,  and  coffee. 

After  dinner  Mother  told  them  about  some  of  the 
work  for  the  other  tribes,  then  gave  a  talk  on  the 
call  of  Abraham. 

"  Now  I  think  the  Christians  ought  to  pray  or  say 
a  word  for  Jesus,"  she  said  at  the  close.  "  Some 
day  you  will  have  a  church,  and  then  you  will  have 
to  talk." 

You  ought  to  have  seen  Sherman's  face!  It 
beamed  like  the  sun  when  Mother  said  they  would 
have  a  church.  Then  what  do  you  think  he  asked? 


A  Mono  Madonna. 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  31 

"  Must  you  close  your  eyes?  "  Eagerly  he  sought 
to  do  just  right. 

He  sat  awhile  and  then  got  up  and  said  some 
thing.  Julia  (Mrs.  John  Wesley)  followed;  then 
Sherman's  mother,  daughter,  and  wife  each  said 
something.  We  could  not  understand,  but  we  knew 
the  spirit  of  God  was  there.  Mother  then  told  Sher 
man  to  pray.  Some  laughed,  but  he  prayed.  What 
wouldn't  we  have  given  to  have  understood  it !  You 
should  have  seen  our  dear  Julia's  face.  A  person 
can't  help  loving  her.  I  always  feel  we  ought  to 
call  her  our  Jewel. 

A  SHIRT  EACH  FOR  JULIA'S  BOYS 

November  4,  1909. 

Yes,  I  got  back  to  the  mission  safely.  I  had  a 
good  long  wait  in  Polasky — from  eight  until  half- 
past  twelve — but  I  read  three  "  Christian  Heralds  " 
through  and  watched  a  man  ride  a  mad  broncho 
the  rest  of  the  time.  Mother  had  supper  waiting 
for  me. 

Mr.  Cook  says  he  can't  get  us  any  money  for 
our  school,  so  I  guess  we  will  have  to  buy  another 
tent  ourselves  in  which  to  hold  our  meetings,  and 
lumber  to  make  benches  and  a  floor.  I  will  write 
to  Niels  (a  brother)  to  come  up  and  help  us  so  we 
won't  have  to  pay  a  man  for  doing  the  work. 

We  went  to  work  and  fixed  up  the  cabin  a  little ; 
as  the  signs  are,  we  will  make  this  our  winter  quar 
ters.  We  have  curtained  off  our  beds  and  made 
some  closets  for  our  clothes. 


32  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

Yesterday  we  went  visiting  and  sewed  a  shirt 
each  for  Julia's  two  little  boys.  She  was  not  at 
home,  but  we  got  her  father  to  unlock  her  machine 
for  us  so  that  we  could  sew.  He  went  away  and 
left  us  with  the  house,  which  shows  that  he  trusts 
us.  He  was  very  pleased  with  the  shirts. 

"When  you  come  again?"  he  asked. 

"  Friday,  maybe,"  said  Mother. 

"Alrighty,  then  me  gal  come  back.  He  here 
when  you  come  back." 

Julia's  children  are  beginning  to  jabber  Indian 
to  us. 

AN  INDIAN'S  EYES  ARE  OPENED 

November  19,  1909. 

Sherman  has  come  home  from  the  convention  in 
Oakland.  And  happy!  His  eyes  have  been  opened. 
He  has  discovered  that  not  all  whites  are  bad.  He 
is  going  to  be  our  back-bone.  He  Will  put  up  the 
meeting  tent  on  Rancheria  Hill. 

THE  FIRST  GOSPEL  MEETING  FOR  THE  SYCAMORE 
INDIANS 

December  7,  1909. 

We  have  held  our  first  meeting  at  Sycamore, 
about  twenty  miles  from  Auberry.  What  a  time 
we  did  have!  We  left  here  early  Saturday  morn 
ing  with  every  indication  of  a  fine  day.  Sherman 
drove  his  team,  and  Marvine,  another  Indian,  went 
along.  When  we  got  to  Bur  rough  Valley  it  was 
raining  hard.  The  Indian  homes  were  away  up  on 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  33 

the  hillsides  and  it  was  impossible  to  reach  them 
that  night.  So  we  stopped  at  the  home  of  a  white 
man,  married  to  an  Indian  squaw.  He  would  take 
us  in  all  right,  but  would  not  let  Sherman  and  Mar- 
vine  inside,  even  to  eat  of  the  food  we  bought,  be 
cause  they  were  Indians.  But  they  got  a  place  to 
stay. 

We  started  out  to  make  some  visits  at  the  nearest 
homes,  but  could  not  cross  the  creek  which  was 
running  banks  full.  So  we  remained  until  Sunday. 

How  it  did  rain  during  the  night — and  snow! 
The  ranchman  would  not  let  us  have  a  meeting  for 
the  Indians  in  his  house,  so  we  had  to  go  into  an 
old  empty  cabin  across  the  creek  that  no  one  had 
lived  in  for  years.  It  had  no  doors  or  windows. 
Mother  and  I  could  not  cross  the  creek  until  we  had 
thrown  into  the  stream  a  lot  of  big  rocks.  We  had 
no  dry  wood  with  which  to  build  a  fire,  but  man 
aged  somehow  to  get  one  started.  A  few  Indians 
came  and  sat  about  us  on  the  floor,  and  we  had  a 
little  meeting. 

How  good  our  little  shanty  seemed  when  we  got 
home! 

OLD  CAPTAIN  JACK  LOOSENS  UP 

December  17,  1909. 

Still  our  tent  does  not  come.  But  yesterday  we 
had  a  meeting  in  an  Indian  home  close  by  and  had 
a  real  good  time  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  we  had 
told  everybody  to  bring  their  own  dinners.  You 
know  so  far  the  noonday  meal  has  been  furnished 
by  the  family  at  whose  home  the  meeting  was  held, 


34  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

and  we  have  been  afraid  many  came  just  for  the 
eats.  But,  no  sir!  they  all  came  just  the  same 
and  brought  their  dinners.  So  we  are  very  much 
encouraged.  And  old  Captain  Jack  came  too,  and 
invited  us  to  come  to  his  house  next  Sunday.  That 
certainly  made  us  feel  good.  Everybody  had  on 
their  Sunday  best  and  looked  real  nice.  God  is 
hearing  our  prayers  for  this  people. 

If  only  they  would  stop  drinking! 

(In  the  meantime  the  long  looked-for  tent  ar 
rived.) 

AND  THIS  FROM  THE  "LITTLE  MOTHER" 

The  first  Christmas  celebration  for  the  Mono  In 
dians  in  California  was  held  December  29,  1910,  in 
our  gospel  tent  on  Rancheria  Hill.  Early  in  the 
morning  a  half-breed  came  driving  up  to  our  door 
with  a  team  of  four  horses  hitched  to  a  big  lumber- 
wagon  to  haul  the  Christmas  boxes  to  the  tent,  and 
the  Indians  came  up  to  feast  their  eyes  on  the 
FIRST  CHRISTMAS-TREE  they  had  ever  seen. 

Under  the  tree  we  had  large  sacks  of  dried  fruit, 
one  for  each  family,  with  smaller  bags  filled  with 
candy,  enough  for  every  one. 

At  eleven  in  the  morning,  the  women  and  chil 
dren  came  inside  and  sat  upon  the  floor  around  the 
tree  and  sang  gospel  hymns,  and  then  listened  to  a 
Bible  Christmas  lesson.  At  noon  they  scattered 
about  in  family  groups,  eating  the  lunch  they  had 
brought  with  them. 

In  the  afternoon  we  had  the  distribution  of  pres 
ents.  For  the  babies  we  had  blankets,  quilts,  hoods, 


o 


Hand~in-Hand  in  Monoland  35 

rattles,  and  dresses.  For  the  little  girls  we  had 
dolls,  ribbons,  and  dresses.  The  small  boys  were 
made  happy  with  a  top  or  marbles,  or  some  other 
toy,  all  tied  up  in  a  red  handkerchief;  also  scrap- 
books.  For  women  there  were  work-bags,  contain 
ing  a  sewing  outfit  and  an  apron.  Men,  young  and 
old,  received  handkerchiefs,  neckties,  mufflers,  and 
ribbons. 

The  Auberry  Indians  and  the  Jose  Basin  Indians 
were  all  there.  As  yet  we  have  not  had  Christmas 
for  the  Indians  of  Burrough  Valley  (Sycamore). 

Our  gospel  tent  is  14  by  21  feet.  We  women 
bought  it  ourselves,  also  lumber  for  a  floor  and  a 
two-foot  wall.  The  Second  Mesa  Hopi  Church  sent 
ten  dollars  toward  paying  for  the  tent,  and  a  woman 
in  Mendocino,  Calif.,  gave  ten  dollars,  so  it  is  partly 
paid  for.  We  are  glad  to  have  our  own  tent  to 
meet  in.  All  summer  we  met  under  the  trees  and 
arbors,  until  they  could  no  longer  shelter  us  from 
the  rains. 

Our  attendance  each  Lord's  Day  is  fine.  Interest 
good.  Indians  bring  their  own  lunch.  One  Indian 
gave  some  wood  for  our  school,  and  said  when  we 
wanted  more  to  let  him  know. 

We  teach  school  four  days  each  week  from  nine 
until  two  o'clock.  The  children  come  looking  clean, 
hair  nicely  combed,  and  bringing  lunch.  They  like 
the  school,  even  if  it  is  held  in  a  tent.  They  even 
come  on  stormy  days  and  are  so  happy.  We  be 
lieve  our  school  will  help  us  to  reach  the  parents 
of  the  children.  They  think  we  are  really  trying 
to  do  something  for  them.  Some  have  taken  the 

D 


36  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

Jesus  road.    Others  are  given  to  strong  drink  and 
need  our  prayers  and  sympathy. 

KEEPING  UP  WITH  ANTON 
(The  story  is  continued  by  Miss  Christensen.) 

March  4,  1910. 

Well,  Friday  is  here  once  more,  and  it  has  been 
a  very,  very,  busy,  full  day.  This  morning  I  cooked 
and  swept  before  going  to  school.  At  noon  we 
heard  that  a  man  living  quite  a  distance  up  the 
mountain  was  dying.  So  we  dismissed  the  children 
and  walked  over  there,  taking  the  trails,  mountain 
roads,  flooded  creeks,  and  rocks  as  they  came. 
When  we  got  out  on  one  of  the  trails  we  came  upon 
a  band  of  Indians  going  to  see  the  sick  man  too. 

I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  procession.  It 
was  headed  by  Anton,  an  old  Indian  who  is  one  of 
the  hardest  characters  in  our  charge.  And  he  was 
sweating.  My,  the  speed  with  which  he  was  going! 
Ahead  of  Anton  ran  his  little  boy,  wearing  a  pair 
of  pants  twice  his  size  and  strapped  up  with  an 
old  piece  of  harness.  His  wife,  a  fierce  old  woman, 
trotted  behind  at  full  speed,  the  rags  of  her  skirt 
just  going  back  and  forth  as  fast  as  you  please. 

Next  came  a  little  boy  carrying  a  bag  of  bed 
ding;  then  two  women  with  youngsters  on  their 
backs. 

We  were  too  late  to  point  out  to  the  dying  man 
the  way  of  the  Cross,  I  am  afraid.  Oh,  it  was  so 
hard  to  look  at  him  and  think  perhaps  in  a  few 
hours  he  would  be  gone!  We  talked  to  him  in  the 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  37 

hope  that  he  might  catch  a  few  words,  prayed  and 
sang.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  how  pleased  the 
Indians  were  because  we  came,  and  how  soft  and 
sweet  their  faces  were  in  the  presence  of  death. 

When  we  started  home  the  Indians  did  too,  every 
one,  even  the  wicked  old  Indian  and  his  fierce  wife. 
And  didn't  they  go  flying!  Well,  you  never  have 
seen  any  one  walk  until  you  have  seen  an  Indian. 
We  kept  up  with  the  whole  batch.  We  walked  al 
most  steady  for  four  hours  after  half  a  day  in  the 
school  and  feel  fine. 

It  is  very  hot  in  the  sun  or  in  the  tent,  but  oh! 
it  is  beautiful. 

THE  OLD  THINGS  KEPT  GOING  ROUND  AND  ROUND 

May  20, 1910. 

You  should  see  my  new  riding-hat !  It  is  a  Mexi 
can  affair  with  two  large,  dark-blue  tassels.  When 
I  get  that  on  and  my  riding-skirt  and  mount  my 
marvelous  gray  steed,  you  just  ought  to  see  me. 

We  had  our  first  ride  on  our  burros  today,  and 
didn't  we  have  a  circus!  But  we  are  not  going  to 
give  up,  because  we  must  use  these  animals  on  our 
mission  calls. 

First,  they  didn't  want  to  go  across  the  bridge 
right  in  front  of  Fennels,  so  I  had  to  get  off  and 
lead  them.  Then  when  we  got  in  front  of  the  store, 
there  had  to  be  a  lot  of  men  there  looking  on.  The 
old  things  (I  mean  burros)  just  wouldn't  move;  we 
couldn't  make  them  budge  a  step.  So  off  I  came 
again  and  tried  and  tried,  but  no,  sir,  Mother  had 


38  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

to  get  off  too.  We  both  tried  and  tried;  we  boxed 
their  ears,  we  coaxed  them  and  pulled  on  the 
bridles,  but  no,  sir!  And  not  one  of  them  (I  mean 
men)  lifted  a  finger  to  help  us. 

Finally  we  got  started,  pulled  the  burros  up  the 
hill,  and  when  we  got  out  of  sight  we  mounted  and 
rode  over  to  Gripspy's,  but  when  we  were  ready  to 
start  home,  I  thought  we  would  never  get  on  the 
animals.  They  just  kept  going  round  and  round. 
But  we  got  on  at  last.  We  didn't  dismount  at  the 
next  place,  I  tell  you!  We  did  our  visiting  on  the 
burros'  backs. 

Well,  when  we  neared  home  and  it  came  time  to 
get  off  and  put  down  the  bars  in  front  of  Mr.  H.'s 
ranch-house,  I  got  off,  but  the  old  donkey  wouldn't 
stand  until  I  could  put  the  bars  up  again.  So  I 
had  to  leave  them  down.  We  were  thankful  when 
we  got  home. 

Those  little  beasts  will  just  have  to  come  to 
terms,  for  we  are  going  to  ride  them. 

OVER  THE  RIDGE  TO  COLD  SPRINGS 

June  23,  1910. 

Our  trip  to  Cold  Springs  was  the  roughest  one 
we  have  made  yet.  For  seven  miles  there  simply 
was  no  road,  not  even  a  half-way  excuse  for  an 
Indian  trail,  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal,  for 
Indian  trails  may  be  found  anywhere.  It's  twenty- 
five  miles  to  Cold  Springs,  and  half  of  the  way  is 
climb,  climb,  and  the  other  half  is  down,  down.  The 
rains  have  washed  the  roads  away.  Where  roads 


Hand~in-Hand  in  Monoland  39 

should  have  been  were  ditches  with  sides  overgrown 
with  brush. 

Of  course  we  had  to  walk,  and  what  a  time  the 
poor  horses  had  trying  to  get  a  footing!  We  ex 
pected  to  see  one  of  them  fall  any  minute  or  the 
wagon  tip  over  and  break.  But  nothing  happened 
going  over. 

There  were  about  twenty-seven  to  the  meeting. 
One  old  man  seemed  very  interested.  He  just  hung 
about  Sherman,  our  interpreter,  all  day,  his  face  so 
happy  I  wonder  if  he  didn't  accept  Jesus  right  then 
and  there. 

Next  morning  we  got  up  about  three-thirty  and 
traveled  quite  a  distance  before  sunrise.  When  we 
came  to  the  worst  place,  the  horses  simply  couldn't 
get  a  foothold  and  fell  into  the  ditch  that  was  once 
a  road.  One  animal  stepped  with  his  sharp  shoe 
on  the  leg  of  the  other  and  cut  it  some,  but  not  seri 
ously.  Sherman  unhitched,  and  we  helped  him  pull 
the  wagon  over.  Up  to  the  next  bad  stretch  he  and 
I  went  ahead  and  broke  brush  and  threw  it  into  the 
ditch  while  Mother  stood  guard  over  the  team. 

So  in  time  we  climbed  over  the  ridge.  It  is  just 
lovely  up  there;  such  a  fine,  cool  breeze  and  such 
beautiful  trees. 

THERE  WERE  OTHER  TENTS 

October  5,  1910. 

Sherman  says  S.  is  drunk  all  the  time.  He  earns 
about  four  bits  and  then  drinks.  John  Burroughs 
was  at  meeting  last  Sunday,  much  to  my  surprise 


40  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

and  delight.    I  think  John  will  come  out  into  the 
light  soon. 

I  have  been  alone  several  nights,  Mother  having 
gone  to  Clovis  to  attend  to  some  business  about  the 
mission.  Mrs.  H.  worried  about  me,  but  there  was 
no  use  of  that.  I  was  not  afraid  at  all.  Always 
slept  the  whole  night  in  one  long  sleep.  Why 
should  I  be  afraid  when  "the  Lord  encampeth 
round  about  them  that  fear  him,"  and  "  He  gives 
his  loved  ones  sleep  "? 

ON  THE  DUNLAP  TRAIL 

October  21,  1910. 

Our  Dunlap  trip  is  over,  and  we  are  at  home  in 
our  harness  again.  Leaving  bright  and  early  Mon 
day  morning,  we  were  gone  almost  four  days.  The 
first  night  we  camped  about  twelve  miles  from 
Dunlap,  having  traveled  nearly  forty  miles  that 
day.  We  could  find  no  place  to  camp  near  water, 
so  where  we  stopped  there  was  neither  house  nor 
spring-water  within  miles  of  us.  We  had  bought 
some  corn  at  a  Chinaman's  garden,  so  we  roasted 
the  ears  in  the  fire  and  ate  tomatoes  which  Mrs.  H. 
had  given  us,  to  quench  our  thirst. 

After  supper  Sherman,  our  interpreter,  told  us 
Indian  stories  and,  after  reading  and  prayer,  we 
went  to  bed  on  the  ground  with  the  blue  sky  dotted 
with  stars  as  our  roof.  We  had  quite  a  time  keep 
ing  the  horses  from  walking  right  over  us. 

A  little  while  after  we  went  to  bed  several  loads 
of  young  people  went  by  and  hollered,  "  Hello  for 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  41 

the  shiveree ! "  So  we  knew  that  they  must  be  on 
their  way  to  Centerville. 

"  You  just  see,  they'll  be  funny  when  they  come 
back,"  I  told  Mother. 

Sure  enough,  some  time  in  the  night  I  awoke, 
and  they  were  just  shooting  one  shot  after  another 
into  the  air  and  yelling  like  madmen.  If  they  had 
expected  us  to  get  up  and  run,  they  were  disap 
pointed.  We  did  not  stir.  I  did  want  to  see  where 
they  were  sending  those  shots,  but  we  decided  to 
lie  still  and  let  them  have  their  fun. 

Somehow,  one  feels  so  secure  and  serene  out  there 
under  the  blue  sky;  it  seems  as  if  God  were  more 
real  when  you  can  see  the  stars  over  you. 

We  got  up  and  started  off  without  breakfast  as 
we  could  not  make  coffee  without  water.  After 
driving  about  six  miles  we  stopped  beside  a  spring 
for  breakfast.  Got  to  the  Indians  somewhere 
around  ten  that  day.  Visited  during  the  day  and 
had  a  meeting  in  the  evening.  There  were  about 
twenty-five  out.  Had  a  real  good  meeting.  The 
people  listened  so  well  I  just  loved  to  talk  to  them. 
They  grunted  like  they  do  in  Indian  stories.  I 
wish  our  Indians  would  do  that — we  would  know 
then  that  they  were  listening. 

That  was  the  wettest  dry  night  I  ever  slept  out 
in.  The  dew  was  so  heavy  that  our  quilts  were 
just  wet,  and  the  only  place  that  was  dry  on  my 
pillow  was  where  my  head  lay.  We  hung  our  beds 
out  to  dry  while  eating  breakfast.  After  that  we 
packed  up,  but  instead  of  starting  for  home  at  six, 
we  stayed  at  the  request  of  these  Dunlap  Indians 


42  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

who  wanted  another  meeting,  bless  their  hearts! 
So  we  had  a  meeting  at  half -past  eight  and  were 
on  our  way  homeward  at  ten. 

The  Indians  out  there  do  not  drink  much,  send 
some  of  their  children  to  the  district  school,  and 
have  quite  a  good  deal  of  land  fenced  in.  I  think 
they  are  real  nice.  The  women  seemed  willing  to 
talk  to  you.  There  are  about  eighty  within  five 
miles.  Then  there  are  several  living  farther  back 
and  also  another  tribe  over  the  ridge. 

We  were  tired  when  we  got  home  yesterday,  but 
we  washed  and  scrubbed  our  tent  floor  after  dinner. 
Today  we  have  been  doing  our  first  cleaning  on 
the  Hudson  place.  Oh,  you  can't  think  how  it  looks ! 
I  wish  we  could  have  some  one  like  John  Hoen  to 
come  here  and  spend  a  week  just  clearing  up  brush 
and  stuff. 

We  hope  by  next  week  to  go  over  there  in  the 
basin  and  put  up  our  tent  near  the  house  and  live 
in  that  until  the  house  is  fixed. 

ALONE  IN  HUDSON  BASIN 

October  31,  1910. 

Well,  here  we  are  all  moved  and  partly  settled. 
We  were  here  all  alone  four  nights  and  not  a  per 
son  in  sight  for  many  long  miles,  and  a  big  moun 
tain  between  us  and  civilization;  but  we  were  all 
safe.  It  seems  so  good  to  lie  down  and  know  that 
the  Lord  encampeth  round  about  them  that  fear 
him.  We  thought  we  would  be  awful  lonely,  but 
we  were  not  so  at  all.  It  really  seemed  a  relief 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  43 

to  be  out  of  the  vision  of  everybody  for  awhile. 
Not  an  Indian  came  to  see  us.  But  when  it  came 
Saturday  we  really  wanted  to  see  some  one.  We 
have  decided  to  get  Sherman  to  come  over  here  and 
live  at  the  Hudson  place  and  put  up  a  kitchen  for 
ourselves  to  cook  in  and  put  a  roof  over  our  tent 
and  live  that  way  this  winter.  It  would  be  camp 
ing  sure  enough,  but  we  would  be  at  home. 

You  ought  to  have  been  here  one  night.  We  had 
a  jolly  time,  I  tell  you.  I  do  not  know  how  long 
I  had  been  asleep  when  Mother  came  to  my  bed 
and  shook  me  and  told  me  to  be  still.  It  scared  me 
and  my  arms  got  so  that  I  just  couldn't  feel  them. 
My  body  was  so  soundly  asleep  I  couldn't  wake  it  up. 

Pretty  soon  I  woke  up  enough  to  ask  Mother 
what  was  the  matter. 

"  I  think  there's  some  one  trying  to  untie  the 
tent-ropes." 

We  both  listened  and  decided  that  it  must  be 
field  rats. 

I  was  getting  ready  to  go  to  sleep  again  when 
the  tent  floor  began  to  heave  and  shake.  Right 
under  my  bed  was  a  hog  scraping  his  back  against 
the  two-by-four  scantling  that  held  up  the  floor. 
Bump,  bump,  and  thud !  The  Indians  let  their  hogs 
run  wild  in  the  mountains.  Then  a  coyote  began 
to  howl  right  back  of  the  house.  Mother  put  her 
head  out  of  the  door  and  tried  to  yell  louder  than 
the  coyote  and  finally  scared  it  off.  So  between 
the  antics  of  all  the  different  wild  animals  we  had 
a  pretty  restless  night.  Sunday  was  the  next  day, 
too — the  day  we  need  to  feel  so  good ;  but  it  could 


44  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

not  be  helped,  as  rats,  hogs,  and  coyotes  do  not 
keep  Sunday. 

Mrs.  H.  has  given  me  a  gun,  and  I  keep  it  at  the 
head  of  my  bed,  but  don't  you  tell  any  one  that  I 
do  not  know  how  to  use  it.  I  mean  to  learn.  Some 
time  we  may  be  left  here,  and  I  mean  to  have  some 
kind  of  a  weapon.  Not  that  I  think  anything  would 
hurt  us,  but  maybe  I  would  get  a  bear  some  time. 

Sunday  all  our  Indians  came  to  the  meeting,  and 
the  tent  was  packed.  You  just  cannot  think  how 
much  some  of  the  Indians  have  grown  since  the 
mission  was  started.  When  they  come  back  from 
the  grape  vineyards  they  bring  new  buggies,  horses, 
flour,  and  something  to  make  their  homes  more 
comfortable.  We  are  so  glad.  It  seems  so  good  to 
know  they  are  beginning  to  have  an  interest  in 
something  aside  from  whisky  and  card-playing. 

Today  (Monday)  Sherman  and  his  family  moved 
over  and  are  here  near  us  in  the  Hudson  placa  He 
brought  some  deer  meat,  so  we  had  fresh  deer  for 
supper.  Was  good.  It  is  very,  very  dark  when 
raw  and  almost  black  when  cooked.  The  day  after 
tomorrow  we  are  going  over  to  our  old  home  and 
make  some  bread.  Mrs.  H.  has  promised  to  make 
some  yeast  for  us.  You  cannot  imagine  how  good 
she  is  to  us. 

"  MAYBE,  So  BEAR  UP  THERE  " 
DEAR  OSWALD:  October  26,  1910. 

How  is  the  boy  who  was  going  to  build  a  house 
for  me,  and  give  me  a  silk  stove  when  he  grows 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  45 

up?  Well,  now  is  just  the  time  I  need  a  stove  very 
much.  Not  a  silk  one  though.  'Fraid  it  would 
make  too  awful  hot  a  fire  for  the  big  pine  right 
over  our  kitchen,  but  we  certainly  do  need  one  very 
much.  You  know  we  have  been  using  Mrs.  H.'s 
stove,  but  now  that  we  have  moved  we  do  not  have 
anything  but  a  little  camp-stove. 

When  you  get  to  be  a  farmer,  doctor,  preacher, 
or  missionary,  I  may  need  that  house,  and  you  may 
need  a  housekeeper,  and  you  can  fulfil  some  of  your 
promises.  I  know  that  you  will  fulfil  them  well, 
even  though  you  do  not  do  it  in  just  the  way  you 
used  to  describe  to  me.  A  boy  with  a  strong  body, 
a  good  home,  and  Jesus  in  his  heart  to  keep  it  clean, 
is  always  bound  to  make  good  his  promises. 

How  I  wish  you  could  come  up  here  and  help  us 
clean  up  our  fireplace.  We  are  having  a  roof  put 
over  our  tent  and  the  kitchen  part  of  the  house 
fixed  up.  The  house  is  several  times  worse  than 
the  old  cabin  we  lived  in.  The  underpinning  is 
nearly  all  gone.  The  roof  is  very  poor.  The 
porches  are  ready  to  tumble  down.  The  floors  in 
some  places  were  not  safe  to  walk  on  until  Mr.  H. 
put  in  several  new  boards.  Some  of  the  windows 
are  broken,  but  they  are  fixing  the  kitchen  up  pretty 
well,  and  our  little  tent  is  just  fine — almost  as  nice 
as  the  silver  house  you  were  going  to  build  for  me. 
Oh,  my  dear  boy,  when  we  get  into  that  we  will 
keep  comfortable  and  warm,  and  just  think,  there 
will  not  be  any  windows  where  Indians  can  look 
through,  yet  we  will  have  plenty  of  light. 

But  don't  think  we  are  going  to  suffer.     If  we 


46  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

only  had  a  well.  The  Indians  are  always  dipping 
their  dirty  pails  into  the  spring,  and  pretty  soon 
the  creek  will  begin  to  run  and  it  will  come  from 
a  man's  pigpen  above  us  and  run  right  into  our 
spring. 

We  have  made  a  general  attack  with  rakes,  hoes, 
brooms,  and  a  mop,  the  Indians  helping  us.  Now 
the  trouble  is  to  get  our  household  goods  over  the 
hill.  Sherman  has  gone  back  into  the  mountains 
to  hunt  horses,  and  no  one  knows  when  he  will  be 
back.  Now  if  we  were  like  some  of  the  Indians 
all  we  would  have  to  do  is  just  throw  our  frying- 
pan  in  the  back  of  the  wagon,  climb  in  ourselves, 
and  there  we  are  all  moved ! 

Yesterday  Indian  Joe  came  over.  He  sat  and 
looked  at  the  rocky  hill  back  of  the  house. 

"  What  do  you  see,  Joe?  "  I  asked. 

"  Maybe  so  bear  up  there ;  too  much  rock." 

"  All  right,"  I  said.  "  I  will  get  a  gun  and  learn 
to  shoot." 

Joe  laughed. 

Never  mind,  Oasy,  if  I  ever  kill  a  bear,  you  will 
be  invited  to  the  feast.  Now  good  night,  and  may 
God  keep  you  and  bless  you  and  make  you  a  strong, 
good  man. 

(The  following  summer  Mr.  Roach,  pastor  of  the 
First  Baptist  Church,  Selma,  Calif.,  and  several 
brethren  from  that  church  began  rebuilding  the  old 
ranch-house.  They  gave  their  time  without  charge, 
as  did  Mr.  Jolley,  of  Del  Key,  the  representative 
of  the  young  people  of  the  San  Joaquin  Valley,  who 
looked  after  the  cementing  of  the  spring.) 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  47 

No  SURRENDER 

November  19,  1910. 

Some  of  the  mountain  whites  are  working  against 
us,  but  not  us  after  all.  It  is  Jesus  they  are  oppos 
ing,  and  he  will  make  things  come  out  all  right 
somehow.  He  always  does. 

Twenty-one  of  our  Indians  have  been  baptized 
by  Doctor  Brinstad  just  one  and  a  half  years  after 
the  work  opened.  The  Lord  certainly  has  done  far 
above  all  we  could  ask  or  think. 

There  is  going  to  be  another  "fandango."  It 
will  be  hard  for  the  Christians  to  keep  straight 
when  members  of  their  families  go.  But  Jesus  can 
help  them,  and  we  know  he  will. 

(The  fandango  is  a  general  gathering  of  the 
pagan  Indians  to  engage  in  old  ceremonies  under 
the  leadership  of  the  medicine-men.  Wild  dancing, 
feasting,  drinking,  and  gambling,  and  indescribable 
immoralities  are  indulged  in.  Powerful  medicine 
men  from  other  tribes  have  been  sent  occasionally 
to  try  to  draw  the  Mono  Indians  from  the  Jesus 
road.) 

MORE  SUNSHINE  THAN  SHADOW 

December  20,  1910. 

Dick  B.,  our  junior  deacon,  has  started  to  school. 
He  learned  his  letters  and  read  three  pages  today; 
also  did  some  long  problems  in  addition  and  sub 
traction.  How  is  that  for  a  beginner?  Henry  is 
terribly  disconcerted  over  the  multiplication  tables. 


48  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

He  is  doing  fine  work,  though.  George  H.  is  tus 
sling  hard  with  subtraction.  He  is  the  tall,  lanky 
fellow,  towering  way  above  me. 

"It's  too  much  for  me!"  he  said  when  I  asked 
him  if  it  was  hard.  (Special  emphasis  upon  much 
and  mey  uttered  in  a  long-drawn  sigh.) 

Poor  George!  So  many  things  are  too  much  for 
him,  but  I  hope  I  may  be  able  to  help  him  to  be 
too  much  for  a  few  things  that  are  now  getting  the 
better  of  him. 

A  hundred  long  addition  problems  to  correct 
every  night  and  then  make  enough  work  for  four 
teen  pupils  next  day;  some  one  at  recess  to  drill 
nearly  every  day.  So  many  helpless  ones.  But, 
how  I  do  love  my  "  chilluns  " !  After  all,  there  are 
more  bright  things  than  dark. 

Mother  calls  me  Pata  now;  that  is  our  Indians' 
word  for  daughter. 

STILL  THERE 

December  28,  1910. 

Captain  Jack,  the  leading  Indian  here,  rarely 
comes  to  the  meetings  now.  Sherman  said  that  he 
climbs  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  looks  down  on  us 
while  we  are  in  the  meeting  and  says :  "  Oh,  I  see 
they  are  still  there.  They  haven't  gone  up  yet. 
They  are  always  talking  about  going  to  heaven, 
but  I  see  they  haven't  gone  yet." 

Poor  old  Captain  Jack !  I  am  afraid  that  he  won't 
be  ready  to  go  up  with  us  unless  he  changes  his 
life  some. 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  49 

To  A  CLASS  OF  GIRLS 

March  2,  1911. 

How  much  I  should  love  to  see  you  tonight  and 
have  a  little  talk  with  you  all.  It  would  be  quite  a 
treat,  but  since  I  cannot  see  you  face  to  face  we 
will  have  a  visit  on  paper.  I  want  to  thank  you  so 
much  for  the  nice  quilts  you  sent  us  for  our  babies. 
You  may  be  sure  they  felt  good  to  the  little  ones 
who  must  sleep  on  the  floors  these  cold  winter 
nights.  We  have  had  a  good  deal  of  snow,  and  of 
course  it  makes  it  very  cold  in  poor  Indians'  houses 
where  there  are  cracks  all  over  and  no  ceilings  to 
prevent  heat  from  the  fireplace  going  right  out 
through  the  poor  roofs.  I  pray  the  Lord  will  bless 
you  all  and  make  each  one  of  you  earnest  mission 
ary  girls  in  your  own  church.  Our  church  is  our 
mission  field  until  the  Master  calls  us  to  fill  some 
other  place  for  him.  Believe  me,  girls,  missionary 
life  is  made  up  of  doing  a  great  many  little  things. 
Very  interesting  things  do  happen  sometimes,  but 
mostly  it  is  a  quiet  life  of  doing  little  things.  The 
place  to  begin  to  learn  how  to  do  work  for  Jesus 
is  right  in  our  own  church  and  home. 

ACCORDING  TO  THE  TEACHINGS  OF  THE  BOOK 

June  4,  1911. 

He  has  surrendered  at  last!  Who?  Why,  Henry 
of  course.  Oh,  it  seems  too  good  to  be  true!  The 
fight  is  lost  for  Satan  again,  and  there  has  once 


50  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

more  been  joy  among  the  angels  of  God  over  one 
sinner  who  has  repented.  Yes,  and  not  only  one. 

Last  Sunday  I  felt  impelled  to  give  the  invitation 
for  any  to  rise  who  wished  to  become  Christians, 
but  there  were  so  many  white  people  there  and  so 
many  things  have  happened  when  we  have  given 
the  invitation  that  we  decided  not  to,  but  I  did  not 
feel  just  right  about  it.  Well,  today  I  felt  the  same 
way,  so  I  gave  the  invitation,  and  who  do  you  sup 
pose  was  first?  Why,  old  Madam,  who  is  almost 
blind.  She  is  about  one  hundred  years  old.  Then 
the  wife  of  Lee,  the  Chinaman,  rose,  and  next  a 
fine  young  woman  from  Jose  Basin,  and  next  Hiram 
Wesley,  who  once  before  said  he  "would  no  more 
drink  whisky,  but  all  time  pray  now."  Well,  he  has 
just  been  married,  and  I  guess  he  has  a  desire  to 
begin  over  again.  I  wish  you  would  ask  the  church 
to  pray  for  him  that  he  may  not  fall  again. 

Well,  then  wonders  began!  Jesse,  the  awful, 
obstreperous  boy  who  broke  his  leg,  rose  next.  He 
is  Hiram's  brother.  Then  Copeland,  another  of  my 
dear  boys,  and  next  our  hard  case — Henry.  Oh, 
God  does  hear  and  answer  prayer!  That  was  not 
all.  Alpheus,  a  hard  old  sinner,  and  Charlie  Blasen- 
game  rose  too.  But  they  rose  as  though  it  were 
fun.  I  do  not  know  just  what  to  think  of  them. 
But  God  knows.  Oh,  do  pray  that  Hiram,  Jesse, 
and  Copeland  will  be  strong,  because  they  will  have 
a  hard  time.  In  all  there  were  fifteen  who  rose. 

Henry  was  so  happy  his  face  was  wholly  trans 
formed.  Satan  has  had  a  hard  time  giving  him  up. 
Surely  God  must  have  a  work  for  him  to  do.  And 


Hand-in-Hand  in  Monoland  51 

now  you  must  pray  for  Stronbeck,  Anton,  the  two 
half-breeds  at  Burrough  Valley,  George  Besen  and 
Bill  Hancock,  and  also  Bill's  two  sisters. 

They  have  been  accusing  us  of  having  the  good 
people  saved  and  throwing  the  bad  ones  to  the  devil. 
Well,  Sherman  gave  them  one  of  his  famous  talks 
yesterday.  He  just  told  them  that  we  did  not  throw 
any  one  to  the  devil,  we  taught  them  according  to 
the  teachings  of  the  Book,  that  they  would  have  to 
decide  for  themselves  whether  they  wanted  to  go 
to  the  devil  or  not. 


E 


V 

BREAKING  NEW  TRAILS 

JOSEPH  G.  BRENDEL,  general  missionary  to 
*J  California  Indians,  was  making  his  first  trip  to 
the  Cold  Springs  Indians.  Deep  into  the  wilder 
ness  he  journeyed,  finding  trails  almost  too  steep 
and  rough  for  travel  in  a  two-horse  wagon,  as  they 
were  narrow  and  sidling  and  frequently  so  guttered 
by  successive  spring  freshets  as  to  resemble  ditches 
rather  than  roads.  Sometimes  the  wagon  nearly 
tipped  over ;  sometimes  the  drop  was  so  sudden  that 
Brendel  and  his  interpreter  were  nearly  thrown 
headlong  upon  the  horses.  The  dip  down  the  east 
ern  slope  of  the  divide  that  separates  Sycamore 
Basin  from  the  beautiful  Burrough  Valley  defied 
description.  It  was  a  road  to  forgotten  men — a 
Mono  Indian  trail.  It  led  beyond  the  edge  of  civili 
zation.  When  it  reached  the  bottom  of  the  slope  it 
meandered  across  a  grassy  meadow  to  Sycamore 
Creek,  where  it  ended  abruptly.  Across  the  creek 
there  was  no  wagon-road,  nothing  but  bridle-paths. 
On  all  sides  rose  the  steep  mountain  walls  that  sent 
shadows  across  the  basin  in  midafternoon.  A 
silence,  intensified  by  the  soft  murmur  of  the  creek, 
fell  about  the  gospel  adventurers.  Quietly  and  with 
a  deftness  born  of  many  years  spent  in  open  places, 
the  two  began  to  make  camp. 
52 


Breaking  New  Trails  53 

Word  had  been  carried  to  the  Indians  living  far 
back  in  the  mountains  that  the  missionary  would 
meet  them  beneath  the  big  sycamore  near  the  creek, 
and  before  dark  several  families  of  them  came  down 
the  trails. 

In  God's  first  temple!  With  the  stars  shining 
through  the  branches  of  the  towering  sycamore,  a 
service  was  held  that  night.  By  the  time  the  moon 
had  risen  above  the  protecting  hills,  the  women  and 
children  had  retired  to  their  beds.  About  the  mis 
sionary's  camp-fire  the  men  gathered  and  late  into 
the  night  listened  to  the  man  for  whose  coming 
they  had  been  waiting.  In  low  voices  they  spoke 
in  answer  to  Brendel's  many  questions.  They  told 
of  their  poor  homes  in  the  remote  places,  of  sum 
mer  wanderings  to  the  sheep-shearing  camps  and 
to  the  harvest-fields,  of  the  fall  harvest  of  acorns, 
of  fishing  and  hunting  trips,  of  hunger  and  cold 
during  many  winters,  of  the  ravages  of  disease,  of 
drunken  brawls,  and  of  the  schemes  of  the  boot 
leggers. 

The  fire  had  burned  low  when  the  missionary 
finally  was  left  to  himself.  He  walked  out  from 
beneath  the  trees  to  a  point  where  he  could  see  the 
camp-fires  gleaming  in  the  semidarkness  along  the 
creek  bank.  A  wonderful  peace  descended  upon 
him  after  his  long  day's  work.  To  this  neglected 
people  he  had  come  as  a  stranger,  but  he  felt  at  home 
among  them,  knowing  that  the  Father  of  all  races 
looked  down  in  his  protecting  love.  The  eagerness 
with  which  his  words  had  been  received  was  a  fore 
taste  of  many  precious  experiences  he  was  to  have 


54  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

as  a  bearer  of  the  Glad  News.  And,  out  there  be 
neath  the  stars,  he  began  evolving  the  plan  for  the 
moral  and  social  redemption  of  this  destitute  band. 

The  following  day  was  Sunday  and,  shortly  after 
sunrise,  the  mountainsides  awoke  to  life  as  the  In 
dians  in  greater  numbers  came  down  the  trails  to 
meet  the  man  who  had  called  them  from  their  re 
treats  in  the  canons  east  of  the  high  mesa  above 
the  creek.  They  came  singly,  they  came  in  twos 
and  threes,  they  came  in  larger  groups — some  on 
foot  and  some  on  horseback.  Many  brought  their 
camping  outfits,  others  rolls  of  bedding.  Men  and 
children,  women  carrying  their  papooses — they 
came  from  all  directions  to  gather  under  the  great 
sycamore  and  hear  the  gospel  story. 

Representing  different  societies,  yet  in  heartiest 
accord,  Brendel  and  the  women  missionaries  had 
planned  the  work  in  behalf  of  all  neglected  tribes 
within  their  vast  territory,  Early  they  had  agreed 
upon  a  definite  goal  and  sought  the  cooperation  of 
the  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs  and  the  local 
authorities  in  matters  of  law  enforcement  and  edu 
cation.  This  goal,  briefly  stated,  included  an  allot 
ment  of  land  for  every  Mono  family  on  which  to 
build  a  home ;  a  common  school  education  for  every 
Mono  child;  employment  for  every  able-bodied 
Mono,  man  or  woman,  in  the  vineyards  and  orchards 
of  the  San  Juan  Valley;  a  chapel  in  every  Mono 
settlement. 

Brendel  climbed  the  mountain  trails  east  of  Syca 
more  Creek  and  made  his  way  to  the  remote  canons 
and  gulches  in  search  of  every  inhabited  Indian  hut 


Breaking  New  Trails  55 

and  shanty.  He  found  poverty  and  wretchedness 
indescribable.  He  made  a  census  of  all  Indian  chil 
dren  of  school  age  in  addition  to  his  other  surveys. 
The  thoroughness  of  his  work  and  the  spirit  under 
lying  his  methods  are  clearly  revealed  in  one  of  his 
first  letters  to  Washington,  D.  C.,  setting  forth  his 
discoveries  and  recommendations.  We  cannot  do 
better  than  quote  this  letter  in  full : 

TOLL  HOUSE,  CALIF.,  FEB.  3, 1914. 

Honorable  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs, 
Washington,  D.  C. 

DEAR  SIR: 

I  wish  to  lay  before  you  the  conditions  and  needs  of  the 
Cold  Springs  Indians.  This  band  lives  near  Burrough  Valley, 
in  Fresno  County,  Calif.  The  band  numbers  one  hundred 
and  nineteen,  there  being  eighty-one  adults  and  thirty-eight 
children.  Twenty-seven  children  are  of  school  age,  and  four 
more  will  be  of  school  age  by  the  opening  of  another  school 
year.  Most  of  these  Indians  live  back  in  the  mountains  and 
it  is  impossible  to  get  to  their  places  with  a  wagon.  They 
are  scattered  over  a  large  territory.  Most  of  them  have 
little  allotments,  but  not  more  than  half  a  dozen  families 
raise  anything  on  their  land.  Where  they  have  ground  that 
would  produce  anything,  they  have  no  water  with  which  to 
irrigate  their  crops.  Their  living  depends  entirely  upon  the 
men  finding  work  in  the  settlements. 

Last  May  I  opened  up  a  mission  among  them.  They  are 
making  rapid  strides  in  civilization  and  good  citizenship. 
They  are  constantly  begging  for  a  school  for  their  children. 
Therefore,  I  make  this  appeal  to  you  in  their  behalf  for  a 
government  school. 

Near  the  place  where  we  hope  to  build  our  mission  chapel 
is  what  is  known  as  the  Sycamore  Ranger  Station.  This 
station  is  to  be  eliminated  from  the  Forest  Reserve.  So  in 


56  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

case  the  section  should  be  abandoned,  there  is  some  Govern 
ment  land,  not  adjoining  the  station  but  in  close  proximity, 
that  is  level  enough  on  which  to  make  homes.  Could  not  this 
Ranger  Station  and  the  other  land  be  segregated  and  a  small 
Indian  reservation  be  established,  giving  each  family  say  a 
five-acre  allotment.  Then  the  Indians  could  build  their  houses 
on  their  lots,  the  men  would  be  closer  to  their  work,  and  the 
families  would  be  living  where  their  children  could  go  to 
school,  and  all  have  the  privilege  of  the  mission. 

The  Government  has  on  this  Ranger  Station  a  good  four- 
roomed  house,  a  barn,  and  wire  fences.  The  house  could  be 
used  as  a  home  for  the  teacher,  and  the  only  extra  cost 
would  be  for  the  erection  of  a  small  schoolhouse. 

I  pray  you,  give  this  your  earliest  attention  as  these  people 
certainly  deserve  some  help. 

Sincerely, 

J.  G.  BRENDEL, 
General  Indian  Missionary. 

The  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs  sent  a  spe 
cial  field-officer  to  make  a  report  on  the  condition 
of  landless  Indians  in  Brendel's  territory,  and  even 
tually  the  latter's  dreams  concerning  his  neglected 
brethren  were  fulfilled. 

Months  passed  that  were  glorious  in  the  fruition 
of  prayerful  and  conscientious  sowing  of  the  word. 

On  a  typical  California  day  late  in  February, 
1914,  a  happy  crowd  of  eighteen  of  the  adult  Chris 
tian  Indians  of  Cold  Springs,  together  with  Mis 
sionary  and  Mrs.  Brendel,  started  on  a  memorable 
journey  from  the  Sycamore  Mission  to  Dun- 
lap.  They  were  taking  this  fifty-five-mile  trip 
back  into  the  mountains  in  order  to  tell  their 
brothers  of  the  Toi-Ki-Chi  tribe  what  great  things 


Breaking  New  Trails  57 

God  had  done  and  perhaps  help  some  of  them  find 
the  Jesus  Road.  Fourteen  of  the  Indians  at  the 
Dunlap  Mission,  where  Miss  Pauline  Whiting,  serv 
ing  under  the  Woman's  Board,  and  Missionary 
Brendel  had  labored  together,  had  expressed  the 
desire  for  baptism,  and  to  examine  them  as  to  their 
fitness  to  receive  the  ordinance  the  Christian  In 
dians  from  Cold  Springs  had  made  the  long  jour 
ney.  As  the  procession,  composed  of  seven  wagons 
carrying  Indians  and  camp  outfits  and  four  people 
riding  horseback,  made  its  way  over  the  rough 
trails,  one  might  have  heard  gospel  songs  echoing 
among  the  mountain  glades.  Night  came  on  and  a 
stop  was  made  in  a  grove  near  Bobtown.  After 
supper  and  before  the  beds  were  unrolled  for  the 
night,  the  Indians  gathered  about  Brendel  for  their 
Bible  study  and  praise  service — also  to  pray  for 
God's  guidance  on  this  their  first  missionary  un 
dertaking. 

Next  day,  as  the  party  approached  the  Indian 
settlement,  two  miles  above  Dunlap,  they  beheld  the 
camp  which  had  been  prepared  for  them  on  the 
hill  near  a  creek.  On  a  post  in  the  center  hung  a 
big  hog.  Nearby  a  long  table  had  been  built. 

When  the  Toi-Ki-Chi  Indians1  saw  their  guests 
approaching,  they  rushed  forward  to  receive  them. 
In  spite  of  a  cold,  disagreeable  wind,  about  one  hun 
dred  Indians  came  together  for  the  evening  service 
at  the  call  of  "Ti-wa-ga  "  (the  Christian  captain). 

The  following  Sunday  about  two  hundred  Indians 
and  a  hundred  white  people  gathered  for  the  bap 
tism,  a  service  which  the  Indians  of  that  locality 


58  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

never  before  had  witnessed.  The  procession  was 
led  by  the  Convention  pastor  and  the  missionary, 
followed  by  the  Indian  deacons  from  the  Sycamore 
mission.  Then  came  the  candidates  for  baptism, 
and  after  them  the  Christian  Indians  and  the 
heathen  Indians.  The  white  people  followed  in  the 
rear.  The  line  moved  slowly  down  to  the  banks  of 
Mill  Creek.  After  the  meaning  of  the  ordinance 
had  been  explained,  the  fourteen  Indians  were 
buried  in  baptism  with  the  Christ  whom  they 
wished  to  follow. 

In  the  evening  of  the  same  day  the  hand  of  fel 
lowship  was  extended  to  the  Indians  who  had  been 
baptized,  and  they  became  the  first  members  of  the 
Indian  Baptist  church  of  Dunlap. 


VI 
A  BROTHER  TO  THE  MONO 

PHONE  Mr.  Brendel,  of  Clovis,  that  we  have  some 
of  his  Indians  in  jail  down  here  and  that  we 
would  like  to  know  what  to  do  with  them." 

In  this  brief  way  the  police  magistrate  of  a  San 
Joaquin  Valley  town  dismissed  from  his  mind  one 
item  on  the  day's  calendar.  Brendel  had  answered 
that  he  would  be  right  down.  And  he  kept  his  word. 
Old  Lizzie  was  in  good  running  order.  Within  less 
than  an  hour  the  Baptist  general  missionary  to  the 
Indians  of  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  was  before  the 
judge.  The  Indians,  who  had  been  jailed  as  drunks 
the  night  before,  were  brought  in.  Brendel  said 
that  the  Indians  should  be  allowed  to  go  back  to 
the  vineyards  to  work;  if  he  had  recommended 
thirty  days  in  the  workhouse,  the  judge  would  have 
pronounced  this  sentence.  And  thereby  the  judge 
would  have  done  no  violence  to  his  sense  of  justice. 
Each  year  since  the  coming  of  the  missionary  the 
city  and  county  officials  had  had  less  trouble  with 
"  those  worthless  Digger  Indians,"  and  they  knew 
that  every  year  Brendel  remained  at  work  among 
them  the  trouble  would  keep  on  growing  less. 

"  I  ought  to  send  the  whole  pack  of  you  over  the 
road  for  ninety  days,"  said  the  judge  as  he  glared 
sternly  at  the  men  under  arrest.  "  If  it  wasn't  for 

59 


60  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

the  good  word  Mr.  Brendel  has  spoken  for  you,  I 
wouldn't  hesitate  a  moment.  See  that  you  come  up 
to  his  good  opinion  of  you." 

"  Now,  yqur  honor,  please  don't  be  too  hard  on 
these  men,"  said  Brendel  as  a  look  of  perfect  under 
standing  passed  between  the  preacher  and  magis 
trate.  "  Bill  here  is  a  good  boy.  And  Pete — why, 
there  isn't  a  better  grape-picker  in  Fresno  County. 
They'll  need  him  out  at  the  Hillside  Ranch  all  this 
week.  And  Joe  there " 

"  Take  'em  away!  "  thundered  the  judge.  "  You 
may  know  what  you  can  do  with  them." 

These  verbal  exchanges  varied  as  occasion  de 
manded  ;  a  harsher  treatment  of  a  particularly  hard 
case  was  sometimes  recommended  by  the  mission 
ary.  Fines  were  paid  as  a  matter  of  course.  Some 
times  an  Indian  was  remanded  to  jail  for  further 
hearing.  Yet  Brendel  was  always  to  be  counted  on 
to  intercede  for  the  Indians.  Long  ago  he  estab 
lished  a  reputation  among  them  as  a  man  who  would 
befriend  and  not  exploit  them.  They  have  read  his 
character  and  what  they  have  seen  spells  brother. 
There  is  no  other  way  to  account  for  the  fact  that 
all  the  tribes  or  sections  of  tribes  inhabiting  the 
region  covered  by  this  missionary,  have  voluntarily 
come  under  his  guidance. 

Patiently,  fearlessly,  the  missionary  had  waged 
warfare  against  the  bootleggers  and  their  atrocious 
liquor  which  he  early  discovered  were  the  Indians' 
worst  enemies.  With  the  whole-hearted  coopera 
tion  of  the  government  agents  and  local  authorities 
the  fight  was  practically  won  before  State  and  na- 


A  Brother  to  the  Mono  61 

tional  legislative  measures  relegated  whisky-selling 
to  the  list  of  outgrown  customs  of  an  archaic  civili 
zation. 

In  addition  to  the  heartlessness  of  the  white 
wolves  who  preyed  upon  the  Indians  of  the  Sierras 
for  years,  Brendel  was  obliged  to  contend  with  the 
wiles  and  cunning  of  the  medicine-men.  To  one  less 
persistent  and  of  weaker  faith  in  God's  power  to 
rescue  the  children  of  men  from  the  powers  of  dark 
ness,  the  fight  against  these  tribal  pests  would  have 
seemed  hopeless.  Little  by  little,  through  the  gos 
pel  message  and  brotherly  kindness  in  many  forms, 
the  eyes;  of  the  Indians  had  been  opened  to  the 
methods  practised  by  these  impostors.  Then  one 
summer  there  occurred  what  might  be  termed  a 
systematic  drive  of  the  medicine-men.  From  dis 
tant  tribes  they  came  into  the  Mono  territory  to 
try  to  undo  the  work  of  the  missionaries.  With 
them  came  Indian  men  and  women  adept  in  savage 
arts  peculiarly  alluring  to  an  Indian.  All  methods 
known  to  the  Indian  priest-craft,  from  the  "  fan 
dango  "  to  the  feast,  were  employed  to  draw  the 
Christians  back  into  paganism  and  hold  the  uncon 
verted  under  the  ban  of  superstition.  Indian  hand- 
games  were  vigorously  promoted,  and  the  gambling 
spirit  took  possession  of  the  Indians  as  they  con 
gregated  in  the  valley  during  the  fruit  harvest. 

While  the  Christian  Indians  did  not  waver  in 
their  loyalty  to  the  cause,  there  was  a  tension  and 
unrest  in  the  tribal  life  that  was  disconcerting  and 
threatened  the  peace  of  all. 

The  Indians  of  the  Sierras  long  have  had  the 


62  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

belief  that  their  medicine-men  employ  a  deadly 
poison  with  which  to  destroy  those  who  gain  their 
enmity.  Where  the  medicine-men  get  this  poison 
no  white  man  has  learned,  to  the  knowledge  of  our 
missionaries.  If  there  is  such  a  source  the  medi 
cine-men  have  guarded  the  secret.  Within  recent 
years  there  have  occurred  several  mysterious  deaths 
which  have  been  ascribed  to  the  medicine-men. 
Brendel  followed  up  one  of  these  cases  with  a 
county  sheriff,  interviewed  several  Indians,  and 
convinced  some  of  the  leading  men  of  the  tribe  in 
that  remote  section  of  the  mountains,  that  the  medi 
cine-man  who  had  been  carrying  on  his  operations 
in  that  tribe,  should  take  his  departure  out  of  the 
country.  That  medicine-man  has  not  been  heard 
of  since. 

One  of  these  Indian  charlatans  was  haled  into 
court  for  manslaughter  following  the  death  of  a 
tribesman  caused  by  the  blood-sucking  treatment 
for  a  minor  ailment.  In  the  end  the  case  was  dis 
missed,  and  the  medicine-man  disappeared. 

The  gambling  craze  among  the  Indians  was  effec 
tually  checked  after  Brendel  had  drawn  up,  under 
expert  advice,  a  county  ordinance  making  gambling 
outside  of  incorporated  cities  with  any  kind  of  a 
device,  or  even  the  witnessing  of  a  game  of  chance, 
a  misdemeanor  punishable  by  fine  or  imprisonment. 
The  supervisors  of  Fresno  County  have  looked  to 
our  missionary  more  than  once  for  assistance,  and 
in  this  instance  were  more  than  glad  to  cooperate 
in  a  movement  to  abolish  the  Indian  hand-games. 
Only  those  who  have  seen  this  game  can  conceive 


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A  Brother  to  the  Mono  63 

of  its  harmful  effects  upon  the  participants.  The 
game  itself  is  simple.  The  company  is  divided  into 
two  groups,  and  the  game  is  presided  over  by  an 
umpire,  who  designates  the  person  to  hold  a  small 
stick  and  the  person  on  the  opposing  side  to  guess 
in  which  hand  the  stick  is  held.  Tally  is  kept  by 
means  of  twelve  sticks.  When  one  side  has  won 
all  twelve  sticks  by  reason  of  its  successful  guess 
ing,  the  money  that  has  been  pooled  is  divided 
among  the  members  of  the  winning  side.  Excite 
ment  is  wrought  to  a  high  pitch  by  the  beating  of 
the  tom-tom  and  the  wild  chanting  of  the  official 
criers. 

In  1914  Miss  Christensen  helped  to  give  a  Christ 
mas  festival  at  Table  Mountain  and  described  the 
impression  this  Indian  gambling  game  made  upon 
her. 

After  all  was  over  we  wondered  that  so  many  of  the  men 
did  not  return  to  their  homes,  but  soon  we  were  to  learn  the 
cause.  The  only  bed  in  the  house,  a  homemade  one,  was 
offered  to  us  as  our  resting-place  for  the  night,  which  we 
gratefully  accepted,  using  our  own  bedding.  As  the  hours 
of  the  night  passed,  the  wind  and  rain  shook  the  little  Indian 
hut  so  that  it  seemed  that  it  surely  would  blow  over.  Above 
the  storm  was  heard  Indian  chanting  from  a  teepee  near-by 
where  the  men  were  gambling.  This  kept  up  till  daybreak 
with  not  a  moment's  pause.  Could  we  have  been  at  the 
mission  (Auberry)  at  an  early  hour  that  same  evening  and 
stood  at  an  Indian  cottage  to  listen,  we  would  have  heard, 
instead  of  the  gambler's  chant,  earnest  voices  of  Christian 
Indians  ascending  to  God  in  prayer,  and  soon  all  would  have 
been  still  for  the  night.  The  next  morning  the  men  who  had 
spent  the  night  in  gambling  came  to  tell  us  good-bye,  but 
on  their  faces  were  signs  of  a  long  sleepless  night.  The 


64  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

previous  week  these  same  Indians  had  met  for  one  of  their 
fandangos,  a  dance  for  the  dead  that  lasts  a  week.  Much  of 
the  time  had  been  spent  in  gambling. 

Could  Miss  Christensen  have  looked  ahead  a  few 
years  she  could  have  rejoiced  at  the  change  that 
was  destined  to  take  place  at  Table  Mountain.  Cap 
tain  Wilson,  the  leader  of  the  "  fandango  "  referred 
to,  is  now  a  Baptist  deacon.  He  and  his  sons  and 
his  neighbors  and  their  children  live  sober,  indus 
trious  lives. 

"  We  go  to  bed  when  night  come,"  said  the  cap 
tain  in  a  council  meeting  which  the  writer  attended 
last  fall.  "  In  the  morning  we  feel  good.  Our  heads 
not  down  this  way  (illustrating),  and  we  get  up 
happy  and  ready  for  work." 

After  Mr.  Brendel  had  made  a  survey  of  the  needs 
of  the  Table  Mountain  Indians,  he  persuaded  the 
Bureau  of  Indian  Affairs  to  purchase  one  hundred 
and  sixty  acres  of  land,  which  was  allotted  to  the 
homeless  families  of  that  section.  The  members 
of  the  Baptist  Young  People's  Union  of  the  San 
Joaquin  Valley  and  the  Northern  California  Baptist 
State  Convention  supplied  funds  for  the  erection 
of  a  mission  chapel.  A  school  that  had  been  closed 
because  there  had  not  been  seven  white  children  in 
the  district  to  attend,  opened  when  the  Indians  came 
out  of  the  gulches  and  settled  in  their  nice  new  com 
munity.  The  four  white  children  of  the  neighbor 
hood  who  had  been  deprived  of  public-school  privi 
leges,  were  just  as  happy  as  the  Indian  boys  and 
girls  whose  coming  now  necessitated  the  opening 
of  the  school. 


A  Brother  to  the  Mono  65 

Stranger  than  romance  is  the  story  of  the  trans 
formation  of  the  Table  Mountain  Indians — a  nar 
rative  that  cannot  be  told  in  detail  here.  It  must 
begin  in  the  dim  past  when  the  Spaniards  discov 
ered  this  continent,  and  it  must  be  carried  forward 
through  the  Spanish  and  Mexican  persecutions  to 
the  time  when  the  gold-camp  was  established  at  a 
point  on  the  San  Joaquin  River  almost  within  sight 
of  the  Baptist  Indian  chapel.  From  the  days  when 
the  gold-camp  became  silent  and  deserted,  down  to 
the  coming  of  the  women  missionaries  and  of  Bren- 
del,  we  should  trace  the  story,  following  the  Indians 
to  the  high  foothills  where,  living  like  the  squirrels 
and  rabbits  on  acorns,  roots,  and  berries,  they  were 
found  and  brought  into  a  world  of  light  and  beauty 
by  the  faithful  followers  of  the  Great  Pathfinder. 

Perhaps  the  Mono  work  has  furnished  no  more 
striking  example  of  the  power  of  the  gospel  to  over 
come  the  powers  of  darkness  than  was  witnessed 
in  the  conversion  of  Captain  Pete  Westfall,  the 
priest  and  master  of  ceremonies  in  the  old  Indian 
rites  at  Nippinnawasee  on  one  of  the  trails  leading 
to  the  Yosemite  Valley.  How  the  Indian  preacher 
Neas-je-gar-gath  (Alfred  Lord)  first  came  in  con 
tact  with  Captain  Pete  is  told  elsewhere.1  Captain 
Pete  had  built  an  old-time  Indian  ceremony  house 
called  the  "  Round  House,"  and  for  many  years  had 
conducted  the  heathen  ceremonies  in  the  building.  A 
few  months  after  the  old  priest  had  declared  his  ac 
ceptance  of  Christ,  Brendel  went  to  Nippinnawasee 

Chapter  VI,   "Old  Trails  and  New,"  by  Coe  Hayne ;   The  Judson 
Press,  Philadelphia. 


66  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

to  hold  services,  presenting  the  Bible  stories  in  a 
graphic  way  by  means  of  pictures  and  charts.  At 
the  close  of  one  of  the  meetings  Captain  Pete,  who 
had  been  visibly  affected  by  all  that  the  white  mis 
sionary  had  said,  rose  and  made  the  following 
speech : 

"  Last  spring  when  this  Indian  preacher  came  to 
teach  us  God's  Word  I  believe  it,  I  thought  surely 
so  it  pretty  good;  I  believe  it  was  ever  since  and 
tried  to  walk  in  it.  Now,  when  this  man  comes 
today  and  teach  us,  I  see  it  plain  and  today  I  cut 
loose  all  ropes  and  let  everything  fall  back  behind 
me.  I  right  now  throw  away  all  old  Indian  cere 
monies  and  beliefs,  and  I  walk  out  on  the  new  road 
with  Jesus,  a  new  man.  I  am  a  free  man  with  a 
happy  heart.  Way  down  at  my  place  I  have  old 
'  Indian  Round  House  ' — that  is,  center  place  where 
all  trails  come  in  from  different  bands ;  if  you  want 
to  build  '  Jesus  House/  I  will  give  you  land  down 
there  and  when  you  build  house  all  people  can 
come." 

The  next  morning  Brendel  took  Captain  Pete  in 
his  machine  and  drove  down  the  mountainside  to 
see  the  "  Round  House."  Much  to  his  surprise,  he 
found  about  half  the  band  of  Nippinnawasee  In 
dians  already  there ;  they  had  come  to  see  what  the 
white  missionary  was  going  to  do.  The  old  priest 
took  Brendel  inside  and  showed  him  the  building 
and  all  the  paraphernalia  that  had  been  used. 

"  Long  time  ago,"  said  Captain  Pete,  "  Indians 
gave  me  money  and  I  bought  all  these  things  you 
see,  dishes  and  cooking  utensils;  now,  if  you  build 


A  Brother  to  the  Mono  67 

the  '  Jesus  House '  here,  I  will  have  all  these  things 
cleaned  up  and  will  turn  them  over  to  the  new 
house.  They  were  used  in  the  old  bad  way  long 
enough;  now  we  will  use  them  for  God."  (The 
dishes  were  of  good  material,  and  with  the  cooking 
vessels  were  worth  about  $150.)  "  This  old  '  Round 
House/  "  he  continued,  "  we  will  use  for  Jesus  too. 
We  will  use  the  house  to  cook  and  eat  in  when  the 
Indians  come  for  a  big  time,  maybe  so  when  it 
rains  or  snows  we  can  hold  services  in  here  until 
we  get  better  '  Jesus  House.' " 

Right  there  and  then  Brendel  read  some  of  the 
promises  of  God  concerning  the  kingdom  of  this 
world  becoming  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  they  knelt 
in  prayer  with  the  band  of  Indians  all  about  in  the 
old  heathen  temple  now  set  apart  for  divine  service. 

Arrangements  were  made  at  once  to  have  a 
Christmas  service  in  the  old  "  Round  House,"  and 
when  Brendel  returned  about  a  month  later  he 
found  Neas-je-gar-gath,  Captain  Pete,  and  the  band 
there  awaiting  him.  They  had  been  in  camp  two 
days  during  which  Neas-je-gar-gath  had  held  three 
services  daily.  As  he  drew  near  the  camping- 
ground  the  Indian  boys  and  girls,  who  had  been 
sitting  on  the  high  rocks  listening  for  the  sound 
of  the  missionary  Ford,  quickly  carried  the  news  to 
the  crowd  in  the  "Round  House."  The  Mono's 
Santa  Claus  had  arrived,  and  there  was  joy  un 
bounded.  All  rushed  outside  and  surrounded  the 
automobile  loaded  with  good  things. 

Within  the  "Round  House"  a  tree  was  set  up, 
and  around  this  a  canvas  was  stretched  to  hide  the 
F 


68  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

presents  until  the  time  for  Christmas  service  sched 
uled  for  New  Year's  Day.  This  first  Christmas  for 
the  Nippinnawasee  Indians  held  in  the  old  pagan 
ceremonial  house  was  an  occasion  of  great  happi 
ness  and  religious  enthusiasm.  The  Indians  lis 
tened  with  silent  rapture  to  the  Christmas  story 
told  in  such  a  way  that  all  could  understand  that  a 
new  world  of  joy  and  light  had  opened  to  these 
poor  souls,  whose  forebears  had  been  driven  from 
their  rightful  domain  to  this  inhospitable  mountain 
wilderness.  There  were  presents  for  both  men  and 
women  as  well  as  for  all  the  children — presents 
from  the  white  people  of  the  valley  and  from  all 
parts  of  the  State.  Surely  the  Jesus  Road  was  good 
to  walk  in !  And  better  than  the  possession  of  these 
beautiful  and  useful  things  was  the  knowledge  that 
after  many  years  of  neglect,  there  were  people  in 
the  white  man's  world  who  had  remembered  the 
mountain  Indian  in  his  destitution. 

Health  conditions  among  the  Mono  bands  early 
received  the  attention  of  our  missionaries.  Until 
within  a  few  years  ago  nothing  had  been  done  by 
Federal,  State,  or  local  health  officers  to  lessen  the 
ravages  of  diseases  to  which  these  Indians  were 
particularly  susceptible.  Measles,  pulmonary  and 
bronchial  troubles  were  the  principal  ailments,  espe 
cially  among  children.  In  1917  Missionary  Brendel 
went  before  the  board  of  supervisors  of  Fresno 
County  and  made  a  stirring  appeal  in  behalf  of  the 
Indians  in  his  territory. 

"  I  have  watched  men,  women,  and  children  die 
because  of  no  medical  service,"  he  said.  "  It  is  a 


A  Brother  to  the  Mono  69 

long  way  back  into  the  hills,  and  an  Indian  ordi 
narily  will  not  earn  more  than  enough  to  provide 
the  necessary  food  to  keep  up  life.  During  win 
ter  they  almost  starve,  and  when  sickness  comes 
they  generally  die.  Once  there  were  many  Indians 
back  in  the  hills,  but  the  diseases  they  are  subject 
to  have  eaten  up  the  population  fast.  I  often  won 
der  how  it  is  that  we  have  any  left,  for  the  govern 
ment  has  neglected  to  give  them  the  aid  that  the 
reservation  Indians  are  entitled  to.  [The  Mono  are 
not  reservation  Indians.]  We  missionaries  have 
done  all  that  we  can  in  the  medical  line,  but  the 
demands  upon  us  have  become  too  great  unless 
we  have  money  for  medicine  and  mileage  for  the 
physician." 

To  the  credit  of  the  supervisors  let  it  be  recorded 
that  Brendel  was  authorized  to  secure  medical  ser 
vice  for  the  Indians  and  present  bills  to  the  county 
for  payment.  This  was  the  first  step  Fresno 
County  took  to  render  systematic  medical  aid  to 
the  Indians. 

Upon  the  Auberry  mission  property  was  erected 
a  small  building  which  became  known  as  the  "  Hos 
pital,"  and  which  has  been  used  to  good  advantage 
many  times  during  epidemics.  At  first  the  adult 
Indians,  in  case  of  sickness  among  them,  would  not 
consent  to  leave  their  homes,  or  allow  their  children 
to  do  so.  But  in  time  they  overcame  their  super 
stitious  fears  in  this  respect.  The  resident  women 
missionaries  have  proved  to  be  excellent  practical 
turses  and,  in  several  very  serious  cases,  have 
shown  how  useful  a  hospital,  in  the  heart  of  the 


70  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

Indian  country,  may  become.  These  demonstra 
tions  of  what  the  white  man  can  accomplish  with 
his  medicine  and  sanitary  methods  also  have  had 
the  very  desirable  effect  of  turning  the  Indians  more 
willingly  away  from  the  medicine-men  who  have 
held  things  firmly  in  their  hands  so  long. 

During  the  epidemic  of  Spanish  influenza,  and 
later  during  a  smallpox  scare,  Missionary  Brendel 
was  deputized  as  a  special  health  officer  by  the 
Fresno  County  health  officer.  It  is  of  interest  to 
observe  that  the  United  States  Government,  through 
its  Indian  agent  for  this  district,  officially  recog 
nized  the  health  service  of  our  missionaries  as  of 
high  order.  It  is  permissible  to  quote  a  passage 
from  a  report  of  Col.  L.  A.  Dorrington,  special 
agent  in  charge  of  the  Indian  Agency,  Reno,  Ne 
vada,  to  the  Indian  Office,  Department  of  the  Inte 
rior,  Washington,  D.  C.: 

In  Fresno  County,  the  missionary,  Rev.  J.  G.  Brendel,  took 
charge  of  the  situation  promptly  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
epidemic.  Through  his  efforts,  the  Board  of  County  Super 
visors  appointed  a  special  physician  for  the  Indians,  and  as 
the  epidemic  broke  out  in  a  community,  it  was  immediately 
quarantined  and  special  treatment  given  the  afflicted.  Four 
teen  of  the  most  serious  cases  were  sent  to  the  County  Hos 
pital,  where  three  deaths  occurred.  In  all  there  were  three 
hundred  cases  and  nine  deaths.  The  low  percentage  of 
mortality  is  due  entirely  to  the  activity  of  Rev.  Brendel  and 
his  associates.  The  little  hospital  maintained  by  the  Baptist 
Board  at  Auberry  was  crowded  to  overflowing  and  the 
women  assistants  gave  up  their  own  quarters  as  well. 

At  Coarse  Gold,  Maderia  County,  where  one  of  our  missions 
is  located,  there  were  thirty  cases  of  the  influenza  reported 
by  Mrs.  Harriet  M.  Gilchrist,  "  half -matron,"  stationed  there. 


A  Brother  to  the  Mono  71 

The  conscientious  work  of  Mrs.  Gilchrist,  assisted  by  a  doctor, 
no  doubt  saved  the  situation  and  there  were  no  deaths. 


Long  and  patiently  the  missionaries  labored  be 
fore  they  induced  the  Indians  to  adopt  the  Christian 
marriage  ceremony.  In  their  pagan  life  marriage 
for  the  Mono  Indians  had  been  a  means  of  money- 
making.  The  father  sold  his  daughter  for  five  or 
ten  dollars,  perhaps  more.  Often  a  girl  became 
the  wife  of  the  man  who  would  pay  the  most  for 
her.  The  teaching  that  the  man  and  woman  shall 
follow  the  dictates  of  their  own  hearts  in  choosing 
a  mate  for  life  was  hard  for  the  Mono  to  accept. 
With  admirable  courage  the  younger  converts  were 
the  first  to  adopt  the  Christian  marriage  custom. 
Then  a  number  of  the  leading  men  of  the  tribe, 
who  had  found  the  Jesus  Road,  became  convinced 
that  it  was  their  duty  to  renew  the  marital  vows 
in  accordance  with  the  teachings  of  the  gospel  which 
had  brought  them  happiness.  By  this  step  they 
would  openly  renounce  all  connection  with  or  belief 
in  the  pagan  custom  of  barter  and  exchange. 

Accordingly  the  licenses  were  secured  and  the  day 
set  for  six  wedding  ceremonies.  In  response  to 
invitations  sent  out  by  Indian  messengers  nearly 
two  hundred  Indians  gathered  to  witness  this  un 
usual  event.  Six  Indian  couples,  accompanied  by 
their  children,  many  of  the  latter  grown  and  some 
married,  stood  before  Missionary  Brendel  while  he 
spoke  the  words  which  united  them  according  to 
the  will  of  God  and  the  laws  of  the  State. 

After  the  ceremony  a  reception,  arranged  by  the 


72  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

children,  was  held  for  the  six  remarried  couples. 
The  brides  and  grooms  stood  in  line  while  all  the 
Indians  marched  by,  shaking  hands  and  gravely 
offering  congratulations.  A  wedding-dinner,  served 
out-of-doors,  followed  the  reception. 

Missionary  Brendel  has  obtained  work  for  the 
Mono  Indian.  He  has  done  this  in  a  systematic 
way  by  organizing  the  various  bands  in  his  terri 
tory  into  camps  over  which  leaders  are  appointed. 
At  first  the  fruit  men  were  reluctant  about  hiring 
the  Indians.  One  grape-grower,  who  had  eight 
hundred  acres  of  vines,  the  first  year  refused  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  "  those  lazy,  drunken, 
good-for-nothing  Digger  Indians."  He  tried  one  or 
two,  nevertheless,  and  the  next  year  a  few  more. 
The  third  year  he  came  to  our  missionary  and  said : 
"  Can  you  get  me  enough  Indians  of  your  kind  to 
harvest  my  whole  crop?  I  have  tried  laborers  of 
every  nationality  on  the  globe,  but  these  Christian 
Indians  are  the  best  workers  I  ever  had." 

For  several  years  past  no  trouble  has  been  ex 
perienced  by  Brendel  in  securing  employment  for 
all  the  Indians  he  can  bring  down  from  the  moun 
tains.  We  conclude  this  chapter  with  a  statement 
from  a  report  forwarded  to  Washington,  D.  C.,  by 
Col.  L.  A.  Dorrington,  Special  Indian  Agent  at 
Reno,  Nevada: 

At  Clovis,  Fresno  County,  Calif.,  is  located  the  head 
quarters  of  Rev.  J.  G.  Brendel,  who  has  charge  of  the  Baptist 
activities  among  the  Indian  people  of  Fresno  and  Madera 
Counties.  Mr.  Brendel  is  a  practical  religious  worker.  He 
not  only  looks  after  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  Indian,  but 


A  Brother  to  the  Mono 


73 


enters  fully  into  their  very  life.  He  assists  them  in  procuring 
work,  advises  them  in  business  matters,  secures  medical 
attention  for  the  sick,  and  relief  for  the  destitute,  he  instils 
in  them  an  ambition  and  a  desire  for  progress.  Since  his 
advent  in  this  field,  there  has  been  a  wonderful  change  in 
these  Indians.  From  a  shiftless,  drunken,  immoral  band,  they 
have  become  industrious  and  ambitious. 


VII 
DAWN 

/CAPTAIN  JACK  KUMOA,  the  old  heathen  chief 
VJ  of  the  Auberry  band  of  Mono  Indians,  for  many 
years  had  withstood  the  teachings  of  the  Christian 
missionaries,  scoffing  at  their  doctrines  and  ridi 
culing  his  tribal  brethren  who  professed  Jesus  as 
their  Saviour.  In  December,  1920,  the  first  annual 
Mono  Bible  conference  was  held  at  Auberry.  Captain 
Jack  loves  company;  the  hospitable  old  Indian  re 
joiced  to  see  many  Indians  come  to  Hudson  Basin 
from  distant  rancherias  and  settlements.  Every 
day  he  came  down  the  hill  to  join  the  crowds,  at 
tend  the  sessions,  listen  to  addresses  by  white  men 
and  testimonies  of  converted  Indians. 

"This  Bible  conference  pretty  good,"  he  said. 

Nothing  like  it  had  been  held  in  the  Sierras 
before. 

Decades  ago  there  had  been  a  great  round-up  of 
Indians  in  the  foot-hills  of  the  mountains  bordering 
the  San  Joaquin  Valley  on  the  east,  but  on  that 
occasion  the  Indians  had  been  herded  together  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet;  and  they  were  told  to 
dwell  on  reservations.  We  have  read  how  the  trea 
ties  made  with  the  various  tribes  and  bands  were 
broken.  Old  Captain  Jack's  boyhood  reached  back 
into  those  days  of  unspeakable  woe;  hunger  and 
74 


Dawn  75 

cold  and  strife  in  the  face  of  white  aggression  stood 
out  in  high  relief  against  the  somber  haze  of  his 
childhood  memories.  He  could  recall  few  bright 
days,  although  he  had  spent  his  days  in  a  land  of 
eternal  sunshine.  For  him  and  his  people  life  had 
been  an  interminable  struggle  for  existence.  That 
many  of  them  had  survived  the  terrible  period  of 
conflict  and  afterward  the  period  of  conquest  when 
they  were  driven  from  the  valleys  to  mountain  fast 
nesses,  was  proof  of  their  virile  character. 

Is  there  cause  to  wonder  why  Captain  Jack  be 
gan  the  descent  of  the  western  slope  of  his  life  em 
bittered,  cynical  and  suspicious  of  all  efforts  on  the 
part  of  white  men  to  help  him  or  his  people?  Miss 
Christensen  could  not  forget  the  picture  of  him 
standing  on  Rancheria  Hill  and  looking  down  upon 
the  mission  tent  from  which  the  songs  of  the  con 
verted  were  carried  to  his  ears  on  the  gentle  breeze 
of  a  California  afternoon. 

"I  see  they  haven't  gone  up  yet,"  he  had  mut 
tered  derisively. 

He  had  presented  a  pathetic  picture  that  day  as 
he  stood  apart  from  his  people,  perhaps  secretly 
hoping  that  some  members  of  his  beloved  band 
within  the  tent  might  be  carried  to  the  happy  land 
about  which  the  Christians  continually  were  sing 
ing.  As  for  himself,  he  had  known  misery  so  long 
that  no  appeal  seemingly  could  stir  him  into  seeking 
another  state  of  existence.  His  people  had  been 
fooled  so  many  times. 

But  this  Bible  conference  seemed  "  pretty  good  " 
to  Captain  Jack.  For  six  days  he  had  listened  to 


76  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

his  people  singing  about  a  land  in  which  they  were 
dwelling  and  the  chorus  kept  ringing  in  his  heart: 

I'm  living  on  the  mountain, 
Underneath  the  cloudless  sky; 

I'm  drinking  at  the  fountain 
That  never  shall  run  dry; 

O,  yes!   I'm  feasting  on  the  manna 
From  a  bountiful  supply, 

For  I  am  dwelling  in  Beu-lah  Land. 

He  could  not  keep  away  from  the  Bible  confer 
ence,  and  he  could  not  keep  that  song  out  of  his 
heart.  What  did  these  Christians  mean,  anyhow? 
Was  it  possible,  after  all,  for  a  Mono  to  live  in  a 
happy  land? 

While  Captain  Jack  sat  through  the  long  sessions 
of  the  Bible  conference — three  of  them  every  day — 
morning,  afternoon,  and  night — he  had  time  to  re 
call  many  incidents  in  the  tribal  life  of  the  Mono 
since  the  coming  of  the  missionaries.  Nothing  dur 
ing  those  years  had  escaped  his  notice. 

What  about  that  old  woman  whom  everybody 
had  called  "The  Jug"?  How  strange  that  people 
should  have  believed  that  the  religion  the  white 
missionaries  professed  and  taught  was  capable  of 
changing  her  habits  of  life !  "  There  is  one  person 
you  cannot  change,"  doubting  white  settlers  had 
affirmed.  But  one  morning  Ann's  husband  had 
risen  in  meeting  to  give  his  first  testimony.  "A 
long  time  now  I  come  here,"  he  had  said ;  "  I  hear 
about  this  way.  It  is  a  good  way,  and  right  now 
I  begin  to  trust  Jesus."  His  coming  out  seemed 
to  have  given  the  missionaries  great  joy.  But  great 


Dawn  77 

had  been  their  astonishment  when  "  Old  Ann " 
stood  up  and  said,  "  Right  now  I  trust  in  Jesus  and 
mean  to  walk  in  his  way."  And  from  that  day  a 
great  change  did  come  in  her  manner  of  living. 
The  very  next  Sunday  she  came  to  service  in  a  new, 
clean  calico  dress. 

Fresh  in  memory  was  the  testimony  of  the  China 
man  who  was  married  to  an  Indian  woman :  "  Oh ! 
you  folks,  you  no  savvy  how  bad  Injun  he  be  'fore 
you  come.  Drink!  Drink!  All  time  he  likee  drink ! 
Woman  too!  Some  time  they  go  up  to  saloon  Sat 
urday,  maybe  never  come  back  till  maybe  Tuesday 
some  time.  All  time  crying,  all  time  holler!  Some 
time  no  can  tell  maybe  so  coyote  cry,  maybe  so 
Injun.  Pretty  bad.  Awful !  Now  no  more  do  that 
way." 

Another  Indian  who  had  found  the  Jesus  Road 
good  to  walk  in,  had  said :  "  Before  Indians  become 
Christians  he  have  nothing.  We  working  maybe 
three  week.  Go  to  saloon,  drink  up  quick!  No 
money,  no  nothing.  Just  all  same  as  throwing  work 
and  money  away.  Now  we  go  work  for  a  little 
while  and  maybe  three  month  we  have  plenty  money. 
We  stay  home,  look  after  our  place.  Plenty  money, 
plenty  clothes,  plenty  grub." 

Perhaps  the  Christians  were  right  after  all  when 
they  sang  of  Beulah  Land.  The  storekeeper  down 
near  the  railroad  station  had  said  that  the  Indians 
had  bought  more  wagons,  harnesses,  horses,  furni 
ture,  and  dishes  during  the  years  the  missionaries 
had  been  among  them  than  they  had  bought  in  all 
the  past  years.  There  were  stoves,  ranges,  and 


78  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

sewing-machines  in  homes  where  before  there  had 
been  nothing. 

One  night  during  the  Bible  conference  to  which 
Captain  Jack  had  been  drawn  Missionary  Brendel 
suddenly  turned  the  meeting  over  to  the  Indians. 
And  such  testimonies  as  were  given!  Mrs.  Bill 
Sherman  told  how  she  had  turned  away  from  the 
medicine-man  and  his  "  fandangos."  Jose  Dick, 
Jim  Waley,  and  Sycamore  Charley  made  good  talks 
for  Indians  to  hear.  Then  Captain  Wilson,  of  Table 
Mountain,  and  Captain  Wa-ha-sett,  of  Sycamore, 
spoke,  each  recalling  the  days  when  the  Indians 
were  looked  upon  as  a  lazy,  drunken,  lying,  shift 
less  lot.  After  the  testimonies  the  invitation  was 
given  to  all  men  and  women  and  boys  and  girls 
who  wished  to  walk  in  the  Jesus  Road  to  come  for 
ward  and  receive  the  friendly  handclasp  of  their 
Christian  brothers  and  sisters  who  were  ready  to 
help  them.  Nearly  twenty  responded;  and  on  a 
subsequent  night  others  came  forward,  and  before 
the  meetings  closed  thirty-seven  declared  their  alle 
giance  to  Christ.  One  of  them  was  a  stalwart 
grandson  of  the  Major  Savage  who  had  led  the  expe 
dition  against  old  Chief  Tenaya  of  the  Yosemites. 
This  boy  was  one-quarter  white.  Major  Savage, 
during  his  varied  career  as  an  Indian  trader,  had 
married  five  squaws,  daughters  of  chiefs  with  whom 
he  had  established  trade  relations. 

"  This  Bible  conference  pretty  good,"  said  Cap 
tain  Jack,  the  old  heathen  chief  from  Rancheria 
Hill.  The  speakers  were  Miss  Ina  M.  Shaw  and 
Dr.  L.  C.  Barnes,  of  the  Home  Mission  Societies; 


Dawn  79 

Revs.  George  L.  White  and  E.  E.  Ford,  of  Los  An 
geles;  Charles  A.  Edsall,  a  layman  from  Pasadena; 
Misses  Nora  Swenson  and  Mary  Strange,  the  mis 
sionaries  at  Auberry;  Mrs.  C.  0.  Livesay,  the  mis 
sionary  at  Dunlap;  Missionary  Brendel,  and  Neas- 
je-gar-gath.  We  grant  that  the  conference  was 
"  pretty  good."  But  its  closing  hour  found  old  Cap 
tain  Jack  hesitating  to  cross  the  boundaries  of 
Beulah  Land.  He  had  heard  the  invitation  to  enter 
the  Jesus  Road  so  many  times  before  and  had  as 
often  refused  to  turn  aside  from  the  old  heathen 
trail,  that  it  did  not  now  occur  to  him  that  the  time 
to  surrender  had  come.  The  last  hymn  was  sung, 
the  last  invitation  given,  the  last  prayer  uttered. 
At  the  close  of  the  final  session  of  the  conference 
the  old  man  sat  with  bowed  head  in  his  chair  at  the 
rear  of  the  chapel.  He  walked  back  to  his  home 
with  the  conquering  Christ  very  close  to  him,  but 
still  an  uninvited  guest  in  his  heart. 

There  had  been  sent  a  request  from  Baptist  head 
quarters  in  New  York  City  that  the  Mono  bands 
remain  in  camp  three  days  longer  to  give  two  oper 
ators  of  motion-picture  cameras  an  opportunity  to 
secure  a  number  of  scenes  of  missionary  activity  in 
the  Sierras.  Captain  Jack  welcomed  this  news. 
Would  there  be  more  meetings?  All  the  Indians 
were  asking  for  them. 

While  Mono  Bill  Charley,  a  Christian  Indian 
from  Dunlap,  was  busy  in  forest  glades  and  on 
mountain  trails  gladly  cooperating  in  the  visualiza 
tion,  for  audiences  everywhere,  of  the  remarkable 
story  of  his  redemption  and  subsequent  happiness 


80  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

as  a  follower  of  the  great  Pathfinder,  other  testi 
monies  were  being  given  by  other  Indians  in  an 
all-day  gospel  meeting  within  the  chapel  and  with 
out  thought  of  what  was  going  on  outside  in  con 
nection  with  the  filming  of  historical  scenes. 

And  during  that  memorable  day  Mr.  Edsall  and 
Doctor  Barnes  responded  to  the  Indians'  requests 
for  more  "  Jesus  talks."  Late  in  the  afternoon  the 
heart  of  old  Captain  Jack  melted  after  a  stirring 
evangelistic  appeal  by  Doctor  Barnes,  whose  early 
ambition  to  be  sent  to  heathen  lands  as  a  mission 
ary  had  been  blighted  by  circumstances  over  which 
he  had  had  no  control,  but  which  has  had  a  partial 
fulfilment  in  that  he  has  spoken  to  many  heathen 
Indian  tribes  throughout  North  America.  Captain 
Jack's  surrender  to  Jesus,  his  Saviour,  caused  great 
rejoicing  throughout  the  camp.  The  Mono  jubilee 
song  never  seemed  more  precious.  The  oldest  and 
one  of  the  most  influential  Mono  chiefs  had  entered 
Beulah  Land  to  walk  in  the  Jesus  Road  forever  and 
ever. 


n 


ARIZONA  DAYS 


I 

SAALAKO 

TUSAYAN  boasts  of  no  prouder  village  than 
Walpi.  Its  terraced  roofs  surmount  the  high 
est  pinnacle  of  First  Mesa,  lofty  and  severe  in  out 
line,  a  landmark  well  worth  a  long  journey  to  see. 

In  this  ancient  stronghold  of  the  Hopi  Indians1 
the  Snake  clan  is  the  oldest  and  most  influential. 
Priestess  of  this  order,  by  birthright,  is  Saalako. 
Around  her  cluster  the  most  ancient  traditions  of 
Hopiland.  The  present  Snake  chief  of  Walpi  is  her 
son,  Qoyahwiyma;  before  him,  Kopeli,  her  older 
son,  was  chief  until  his  death;  and  preceding  him, 
Saalako's  husband,  Supela,  was  Snake  chief  four 
years.  Her  connection  with  the  leading  Snake 
family  gave  her  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
secrets  of  the  order.  It  was  her  duty  to  brew  the 
"medicine"  which  the  Snake  priests  drank  after 
their  hideous  ceremonies.  She  led  the  women  in 
their  infamous  mamzrauti  dances.  The  honor  and 
respect  paid  her  by  the  Walpi  people,  because  of 
her  wisdom  and  her  rank,  cannot  be  measured  with 
words.  In  the  aristocracy  of  Hopiland  she  occupied 
first  place. 

A  few  years  ago  Saalako  forfeited  her  exalted 

1  See  table  on  page  112  for  statistical  material  with  regard  to  Hopi 
Indian  missions. 

G  83 


84  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

position  in  Walpi,  for  she  has  become  a  Christian. 
Consequently  there  are  heathen  mothers  in  Tusayan 
who  tell  their  children  that  old  Saalako  is  a  witch. 

The  story  of  the  redemption  of  this  remarkable 
Hopi  woman,  whose  fame  is  equal  to  that  of  Nam- 
peyo,  the  pottery-maker  of  Tewa,  as  she  told  it  to 
the  writer  one  autumn  afternoon,  forms  one  of 
those  golden  chapters  in  the  history  of  missions 
which  reveal  the  power  of  Christianity  to  liberate 
humankind  from  the  most  enslaving  traditions  and 
the  darkest  superstitions. 

Poshumi,  the  devil  chief  of  Walpi,  and  noted  as 
a  grower  of  corn,  was  Saalako's  father.  His  cere 
monial  duties  had  to  do  with  making  known  the 
wishes  of  the  underworld-god.  Her  mother  was 
Nakwyumsi,  a  maker  of  pottery.  But  more  power 
ful  among  the  Walpians  than  either  Poshumi  or 
Nakwyumsi  was  Kwuiyahwisni,  the  old  Snake 
priestess,  Saalako's  aunt. 

No  one  today  knows  the  age  of  Saalako.  Even 
she  has  no  conception  of  it.  The  Hopi  have  no 
calendars.  But  as  a  child  she  lived  through  many 
Navajo,  Apache,  and  Ute  raids.  She  can  relate 
many  stories  of  the  attacks  of  hostile  tribes  upon 
the  mesa  villages.  Here  is  one : 

One  day  the  Walpians  were  gathered  at  a  feast 
called  Ko-chets-ka-vi  when  suddenly  the  watchers 
cried  out  that  a  band  of  horsemen  were  drawing 
near.  The  Hopi  warriors  descended  to  the  plains 
and  in  a  prolonged  battle  with  their  Apache  foes 
won  a  decisive  victory,  for  only  three  Apaches  went 
back  to  their  own  territory.  Nearly  every  Hopi 


Saalako,  the  old  snake  priestess  of  Walpi,  Hopi, 
Pueblo,  Ariz. 


Saalako  85 

went  home  with  a  scalp,  and  as  they  neared  their 
village  the  women  came  out  to  meet  the  warriors 
at  the  foot  of  the  mesa  and  escorted  them  to  the 
plaza  near  the  Dance  Rock.  A  pow-wow  was  held 
and  after  the  warriors  had  circled  the  Dance  Rock 
for  a  time  they  went  into  the  kiva  or  underground 
ceremonial  chamber.  For  twenty  days  and  nights 
the  men  who  had  been  successful  in  taking  the 
scalps  of  their  enemies  were  given  the  freedom  of 
the  pueblo — a  freedom  that  meant  such  license  that 
the  happy  relations  of  many  husbands  and  wives 
were  rudely  broken  up.  The  law  of  the  village  for 
bade  remonstrance  by  the  injured  husbands  as  their 
wives  were  taken  from  them.  The  warriors  be 
came  the  great  men  of  the  village  and  were  ap 
pointed  to  the  coveted  positions  of  watchers  of  the 
trails  during  the  night. 

A  girlhood  romance  which  ended  tragically  has 
never  been  forgotten  by  Saalako.  A  boy  whom  she 
loved  was  suddenly  taken  from  her  sight  forever 
by  the  dreaded  disease  of  the  desert,  smallpox. 
Then  a  friend  came  to  her  with  the  love  message 
of  Supela  (Spider-Running-Up-Web).  She  looked 
kindly  upon  his  suit  and  as  an  evidence  of  her  re 
gard  carried  meal  and  piki  (corn-wafers)  to  his 
home,  and  thereby  expressed  her  willingness  to 
work  a  month  for  Supela  and  all  of  his  relatives 
according  to  Hopi  custom.  The  grass  tray  of  meal 
which  she  brought  was  made  of  white  corn  and 
was  received  by  Supela's  mother.  All  that  day  she 
labored  at  the  mealing-stones  grinding  white  corn. 
She  was  not  a  robust  girl,  and  the  prolonged  exer- 


86  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

tion  drew  so  heavily  upon  her  physical  reserves  that 
she  was  barely  able  to  crawl  to  her  bed  upon  the 
floor.  No  one  spoke  to  her  during  that  first  day, 
nor  was  she  noticed  the  next  day  while  she  con 
tinued  her  task  at  the  grinding-stones.  As  dawn 
approached,  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  she 
attempted  to  rise  as  usual,  but  her  aching  muscles 
refused  to  obey  her  will  at  first.  The  supreme  test 
of  her  loyalty  to  the  man  of  her  choice  was  at  hand. 
She  must  get  up  and  work  until  sundown  grinding 
at  the  mealing-stones,  using  on  this  day  the  dark 
blue  corn.  She  crawled  to  her  place  in  the  corner 
with  the  grave  misgivings  that  she  could  not  keep 
going  until  night. 

Timidly  she  asked  a  member  of  the  family  for 
permission  to  go  home  for  a  little  while. 

"  Not  until  we  finish  the  wedding-garments  will 
you  go  home." 

There  could  be  no  other  answer.  Had  Saalako 
given  up  she  would  have  been  turned  loose  upon  the 
streets,  an  outcast.  In  the  eyes  of  all  Hopi  she 
would  have  been  no  better  than  a  coyote.  Her 
parents  would  not  have  received  her  kindly.  Shift 
ing  from  house  to  house  she  would  have  been  obliged 
to  beg  for  her  food. 

Therefore  she  continued  to  grind  all  day,  looking 
forward  to  sundown,  when  her  friends  would  come 
with  presents  of  trays  of  meal  which,  according 
to  custom,  would  be  returned  on  the  following  day 
heaped  high  with  ears  of  corn. 

The  girl's  probation  at  an  end,  the  wedding  cere 
monies  began  at  dawn  of  the  fourth  day,  when  rela- 


Saalako  87 

tives  of  both  families  assembled  at  Supela's  home 
to  take  part  in  the  traditional  head-washing  of  the 
bride  and  groom,  each  guest  bringing  a  small  quan 
tity  of  water  for  the  rinsing. 

Supela  knelt  before  a  bowl  prepared  by  his  future 
mother-in-law,  and  Saalako  knelt  before  a  bowl  pre 
pared  by  her  future  mother-in-law.  Their  heads 
were  washed  while  their  young  friends  merrily 
tried  to  interrupt  the  ceremony  from  time  to  time 
by  holding  their  own  heads  over  the  bowls.  After 
the  rinsing,  the  young  bridal  couple  went  out  alone 
to  the  east  side  of  the  mesa  and  cast  meal  toward 
the  rising  sun.  Then  they  returned  to  Supela's 
home  as  husband  and  wife. 

Saalako's  period  of  testing  now  barely  had  be 
gun.  While  Supela's  male  relatives,  in  the  kivas, 
spun  the  blanket  and  the  sash  from  the  cotton  which 
Supela  had  provided  for  the  adornment  of  his  bride, 
Saalako  was  obliged  to  remain  an  occupant  of  his 
home,  doing  all  the  menial  tasks  for  the  large  com 
pany.  Supela's  mother,  his  aunts,  and  his  sisters, 
upon  occasion,  brought  water  in  jars  from  the 
spring  at  the  foot  of  the  mesa,  but  their  duties 
ended  when  that  was  done.  Many  times  homesick 
ness  and  fatigue  drove  Saalako  almost  to  despera 
tion  when  she  was  tempted  to  flee  to  her  home. 
But  the  admonitions  of  her  parents  and  of  her  aunt, 
the  priestess,  were  not  forgotten. 

"  Until  your  wedding-garments  are  made  you 
must  not  leave  your  husband's  house  alone,"  they 
had  cautioned  her.  "If  you  leave  his  house  un 
attended,  you  will  bear  an  evil  name  forever  and 


88  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

not  only  disgrace  yourself,  but  put  to  shame  your 
family  as  well." 

Uncomplainingly  Saalako  accepted  her  daily 
tasks,  creeping  to  her  bed  at  night  with  little  hope 
of  sleeping  on  account  of  the  violent  cramps  that 
seized  her  as  soon  as  her  lame  muscles  began  to 
relax.  Steadily  she  grew  weaker  because  she 
heeded  the  warnings  of  her  people  to  eat  sparingly 
of  the  food  lest  the  spinning  be  cursed.  Once  her 
mother  brought  her  meal.  Then  the  grinding, 
grinding  continued  during  days  that  never  seemed 
to  end. 

When  at  last  Saalako  received  her  bridal  trous 
seau,  lacking  only  the  white  moccasins  because  of 
the  scarcity  of  buckskin,  she  went  to  her  own  home 
with  Supela  her  husband.  Henceforth  the  house 
they  were  to  live  in  would  be  hers,  and  their  chil 
dren  would  take  their  descent  from  her.  And  in 
this  territory,  where  woman's  rights  centuries  ago 
became  ancient  history,  she  alone  would  have  the 
right  of  separation,  turning  the  man  from  her  door 
in  the  event  of  domestic  troubles. 

The  years  passed. 

One  dark  night  Nuwawistiwa,  the  old  chief  of 
the  Snake  clan,  feeble  of  sight  and  easily  bewil 
dered,  fell  over  the  edge  of  the  high  wall  of  the 
mesa  and  broke  his  neck.  Because  of  this  sudden 
termination  of  the  old  chief's  career  it  was  believed 
that  a  curse  was  upon  that  office.  No  man  among 
the  deceased's  relatives  could  be  found  who  would 
accept  the  tiponi,  the  badge  of  highest  authority  in 
the  Snake  clan. 


Saalako  89 

During  the  years  the  power  of  Saalako ,  had 
grown.  She  now  shrewdly  contrived  to  gain  greater 
prestige  and  power  for  her  family  by  annexing  the 
tiponi  of  the  Snake  clan.  Had  she  been  a  male  it 
would  have  come  to  her  by  birthright.  As  neither 
of  her  two  sons  was  old  enough  to  assume  the  dig 
nified  role  of  Snake  chief,  she  resorted  to  the  ir 
regular  procedure  of  prevailing  upon  her  husband, 
Supela,  not  of  the  Snake  priesthood,  to  accept  the 
Snake  tiponi  as  chief  of  the  order.  At  first  he  de 
murred.  He  did  not  care  to  accept  an  honor  which 
Saalako's  own  brothers  and  uncles  had  spurned. 
But  Saalako  was  persistent. 

"  If  you  will  take  the  tiponi  for  four  years,  then 
Kopeli  will  be  old  enough,"  she  urged.  "And  if 
you  take  it  I  will  go  down  into  the  kiva  with  you 
and  stay  there  four  years,  helping  you  in  all  the 


ceremonies." 


Supela,  yielding  to  Saalako's  importunities,  di 
rected  the  Snake  rituals  four  years.  Saalako  kept 
her  promise  and  assisted  him  during  every  cere 
mony.  Kopeli,  her  older  son,  succeeded  Supela  at 
the  end  of  the  four-year  term  of  office. 

Kopeli  was  a  young  man  of  handsome  features 
and  noble  bearing.  Dr.  Walter  Hough  presents  an 
intimate  description  of  him  in  "  Mesa  Folk  of  Hopi- 
land " :  "  There  was  in  Kopeli  a  dignity  which 
commands  respect.  .  .  He  was  a  notable  figure." 
Dr.  J.  Walter  Fewkes  referred  to  him  "as  an  ex 
cellent  man,  whose  heart  was  good  and  whose  speech 
was  straight.  .  .  It  was  through  Kopeli's  influence 
that  the  Snake  dance  at  Walpi  was  the  largest  and 


90  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

most  striking  of  these  weird  ceremonies  in  the  Hopi 
pueblos." 

Kopeli  likewise  met  a  sudden  and  tragic  end.  He 
died  of  smallpox  one  day  after  the  acute  stages  of 
the  disease  set  in.  Then  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  Q6- 
yahwiyma,  Saalako's  second  son,  to  direct  the 
Snake  ceremonies.  He  is  the  chief  at  the  present 
time,  and  is  known  among  the  whites  as  "  Harry." 

Always  with  her  husband  when  engaged  in  the 
Snake  ceremonies,  except  on  occasions  when  the 
presence  of  women  was  not  permitted,  Saalako  be 
came  familiar  with  the  Snake  ritual  and  assisted 
her  husband  in  teaching  it  to  her  sons.  "  The  mys 
tery  which  hangs  around  her,"  said  Doctor  Hough, 
author  of  "  Mesa  Folk  in  Hopiland,"  "  is  born  of 
her  connection  with  the  fearful  rites  of  the  Snake 
cult  and  her  store  of  knowledge  which  has  been 
passed  down  from  time  immemorial  by  '  living 
words  from  lips  long  dust/  This  connection  car 
ries  her  to  the  distant  pueblos  to  mix  the  'medi 
cine*  (used  as  an  emetic  after  the  Snake  dance), 
no  one  in  the  whole  province  being  better  versed 
in  herbs  and  spells  than  she.  .  .  A  remarkable  Hopi 
woman  whose  history  is  worthy  of  fuller  presenta 
tion." 

When  the  general  massacre  of  the  Awatobians 
by  the  Walpians  was  in  progress  the  life  of  one  of 
Saalako's  maternal  ancestors,  a  woman  chief,  was 
spared  on  condition  that  she  teach  the  women  of 
Walpi  the  mamzrauti  or  woman's  dances.  From 
her  famous  aunt,  Kwuiyahwisni,  Saalako  learned 
the  weird  songs  and  rituals  couched  in  the  "an- 


Saalako  91 

cient "  language.  When  Supela  became  Snake  chief 
Saalako  attained  to  the  position  of  chieftess  of  the 
woman's  dance. 

The  mamzrauti  was  a  particularly  obscene  dance 
even  for  a  Hopi  ceremony.  For  many  days  prior 
to  the  dance  proper,  which  was  given  in  the  plaza 
where  all  of  the  Walpian  public  religious  ceremo 
nies  occur,  the  novices  repaired  to  the  kiva  to  be 
drilled  by  Saalako.  Late  each  night  they  remained 
there  engaging  in  the  "  dark  ways  "  which  Saalako 
never  has  ceased  to  deplore. 

In  time  Saalako  came  under  an  influence  stronger 
than  her  passion  for  power  and  the  adulation  of 
her  people.  When  the  white  women,  with  the 
happy  faces  and  kind  voices,  who  spoke  of  the  Jesus 
Road,  first  came  to  her  village,  she  looked  upon  them 
with  disdain.  Then  a  resentment,  fanned  by  her 
jealousy,  burned  within  her  when  she  learned  that 
men  and  women  of  her  own  village  and  of  the 
other  pueblos  were  turning  away  from  "the  old 
Hopi  way  "  and  were  heeding  the  words  of  the  mis 
sionaries.  When  these  same  white  women  spoke 
to  her  she  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  their  pleading.  But 
gradually  a  wonderful  change  took  place  in  her 
heart.  The  kindness  of  the  missionaries,  as  in  daily 
living  they  endeavored  to  interpret  the  Master's 
love,  drove  all  the  bitterness  out  of  her  heart.  She 
began  to  visit  the  missionaries  and  the  Hopi  Chris 
tians  who  had  formed  a  new  community  at  the  foot 
of  the  mesa. 

The  Hopi  Christians,  who  had  started  on  the 
"  Jesus  Road,"  found  that  they  could  not  continue 


92  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

to 'live  in  the  old  pueblos,  or  Indian  villages  on  the 
mesas.  Persecutions  made  life  unbearable  and  the 
immoral  conditions  that  surrounded  them  became 
intolerable  for  Christians,  and  especially  for  their 
children.  Gradually,  therefore,  as  they  left  the 
"  old  way  "  for  the  new  and  better  mode  of  living 
the  Indians  formed  a  new  village  at  the  base  of  the 
mesas,  and  there  built  better  homes  under  more 
wholesome  surroundings.  The  improved  conditions 
from  a  purely  physical  point  of  view  were  clearly 
revealed  during  the  prevalence  of  Spanish  influenza 
a  few  years  ago.  In  some  of  the  mesa  villages  the 
deaths  were  so  numerous  that  the  medicine-men 
refused  to  enter  a  home  for  fear  of  their  own  lives. 
The  Indian  agent  was  untiring  in  his  determination 
to  stem  the  ravages  of  the  epidemic,  and  for  a  time 
increased  his  hospital  corps  by  enlisting  the  help  of 
the  missionaries  as  field  nurses.  But  in  the  airy, 
clean  homes  of  the  Christians  not  one  death  oc 
curred.  And  during  the  long  period  of  the  "  flu  " 
the  Christian  Indians  did  a  very  remarkable  thing. 
They  could  not  meet  in  their  chapels,  but  each  family 
conducted  church  services  at  home.  They  dressed 
as  if  for  public  worship,  taught  the  children  what 
Bible  lessons  they  could  remember,  and  made  their 
weekly  offerings,  which  later  they  brought  to  the 
church  when  the  quarantine  was  lifted. 

Saalako's  decision  to  break  away  from  heathen 
dom  was  made  with  a  suddenness  that  produced  a 
profound  sensation  in  Walpi.  This  happened  one 
afternoon  when  she  was  passing  through  the  little 
settlement  of  enlightened  Hopi  at  the  foot  of  First 


ffi 

I 

ft 
p 

ffi 

I. 

if 

ft 


Saalako  93 

Mesa  and  observed  the  bright,  happy  faces  of  the 
members  of  the  new  order.  She  noted  the  content 
ment  in  the  homes  where  husbands  were  loyal  to 
wives  and  wives  to  husbands,  and  where  the  chil 
dren  were  not  compelled  to  witness  the  immorali 
ties  that  attend  many  of  the  pagan  festivities,  espe 
cially  the  mamzrauti,  of  whose  secret  rites  she  was 
the  chief  custodian.  It  happened  that  some  of  the 
preparatory  ceremonies  of  the  mamzrauti  or 
woman's  dance  were  scheduled  for  that  night. 
Climbing  the  tortuous  trail  to  Walpi,  the  "  Place 
of  the  Gap,"  she  descended  the  ladder  that  led  to 
the  bottom  of  the  kiva  where  the  women  of  the 
mamzrauti  and  the  novices  were  assembled.  The 
women  were  in  scanty  attire  ready  for  the  public 
dance,  their  bare  limbs  striped  with  the  black  smut 
from  the  growing  corn. 

" This  is  the  last  of  the  mamzrauti"  declared  the 
aged  priestess.  "  I  am  through  with  the  dark 
things  that  destroy  the  happiness  of  our  wives  and 
husbands  and  break  up  our  homes.  Today  I  go 
from  the  kiva  free." 

The  mamzrauti  is  now  a  dead  order  in  Walpi. 
Even  Qoyahwiyma,  the  chief  of  the  Snake  clan, 
though  he  may  use  all  the  appeals  he  may  have  art 
to  contrive,  cannot  persuade  his  mother  to  give  up 
its  secrets  so  that  others  may  sing  the  songs  and 
conduct  the  dances. 

Saalako  is  "  free."  White  friends  have  given  her 
a  little  stone  house  at  the  foot  of  the  mesa.  She  is 
an  active  member  of  the  mission  church,  is  helpful 
in  the  homes  where  Christian  guidance  is  lacking, 


94  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

and  is  doing  what  she  can  to  bring  about  better 
moral  conditions  among  the  mesa  people. 

One  day  a  young  woman  worker,  not  long  a  resi 
dent  at  the  Baptist  mission  house  at  First  Mesa, 
was  engaged  in  certain  domestic  duties  out-of-doors 
when  she  heard  a  sound  which  she  could  not  define 
or  locate.  At  first  she  gauged  its  direction  as  com 
ing  from  a  deep  wash  paralleling  the  road  that  ran 
past  the  church  and  mission  house.  She  pictured 
to  herself  some  one  groaning  in  pain  at  the  bottom 
of  the  arroyo.  Then  she  noticed  that  one  of  the 
chapel  doors  was  open.  Stepping  inside  she  beheld 
Saalako's  bowed  form  near  the  front  of  the  church. 
The  aged  woman  was  alone  and  praying.  Later  the 
young  missionary  learned  that  Saalako  does  not  fail 
to  spend  some  portion  of  each  day  in  the  little  Hopi 
chapel  in  earnest  prayer  in  behalf  of  her  people 
who  are  still  waiting  for  the  light. 


II 

GOOD  LITTLE  BROTHERS  OF  TUSAYAN 

ACROSS  the  grim,  desolate  wastes  of  the  Navajo 
desert,  under  the  crumpling  heat  of  an  August 
sun,  from  railway-stations,  ranches,  mining-camps, 
and  government  agencies,  hundreds  of  white  people 
journey  each  year  to  witness  that  strangest  of  all 
Hopi  religious  ceremonies,  the  Snake  dance. 

The  mysterious,  occult  power  which  the  Hopi 
Snake  priests  are  supposed  to  exercise  over  venom 
ous  reptiles  is  the  magnet  that  is  drawing  an  in 
creasingly  larger  number  of  tourists  to  the  remote 
villages  of  the  Hopi  Indians  each  year.  The  out 
standing  feature  of  the  Snake  dance  is  the  surpris 
ing  fearlessness  with  which  the  priests,  with  naked 
bodies  hideously  smeared  with  red,  white,  and  black 
paints,  carry  deadly  serpents  in  their  mouths  as 
well  as  in  their  hands,  finally  releasing  them  to  go 
as  willing  bearers  of  Hopi  prayers  to  the  under 
world  where,  according  to  pagan  belief,  the  great 
plumed  serpent  that  causes  the  rain  to  fall  has  his 
dwelling. 

"  The  white  visitors  are  dazed  at  the  incredible 
scene,"  wrote  a  newspaper  correspondent  last  sum 
mer  after  viewing  the  spectacle  at  Hotevilla.  "  No 
one  who  has  not  seen  it  would  believe  that  these 
men  can  be  so  thoroughly  indifferent  to  the  serpent's 

95 


96  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

venom.  Several  of  the  dancers  reel  and  stagger,  but 
catch  themselves  as  they  gyrate  with  the  tangled 
snarl  of  serpents  in  their  hands." 

"How  is  it  that  these  priests,  some  of  whom 
are  mere  infants,  are  not  bitten  and  do  not  die  from 
the  wounds  of  the  rattlesnake?"  one  of  our  most 
widely  known  scientists  has  inquired. 

Fairly  representative  of  the  local  opinion  as  to  the 
immunity  of  the  Snake  priests  is  the  following 
statement  made  by  a  druggist  who  has  resided  in 
Holbrook,  Arizona,  for  eighteen  years: 

"  The  Hopi  Snake  priests  do  nothing  to  destroy 
the  poison-sacs  of  the  serpents.  They  think  too 
much  of  them  to  do  that.  They  look  upon  them 
with  reverence  and  let  them  go  unharmed  back  to 
their  homes.  Sometimes  they  are  bitten,  but  as 
they  fast  before  the  Snake  dance  and  take  a  power 
ful  emetic  after  the  dance,  they  suffer  no  harm." 

"  I  do  not  think  any  adequate  explanation  of  the 
immunity  of  the  dancers  has  been  advanced,"  said 
an  ex-President  of  the  United  States  after  he  had 
witnessed  the  Snake  dance  and  its  attending  cere 
monies. 

There  is,  however,  one  source  of  information 
which  hardly  can  be  ignored  by  one  seeking  knowl 
edge  concerning  the  ancient  religious  rites  of  the 
Hopi.  We  refer  to  those  groups  of  progressive  In 
dians  who  have  been  led  by  our  missionaries  to  for 
sake  the  "  old  Hopi  way  "  and  walk  in  the  "  Jesus 
Road."  With  respect  to  these  Hopi  Christians  the 
late  Theodore  Roosevelt  said,  "  I  came  across  a  con 
gregation  of  some  thirty  members,  and  from  in- 


Good  Little  Brothers  of  Tusayan  97 

formation  given  me  I  am  convinced  that  these  con 
verts  stood  in  all  ways  ahead  of  their  heathen 
brethren." 

Judge  Hooker  Hongeva  is  one  of  the  leading  Hopi 
Christians  at  the  mission  beneath  old  Walpi,  the 
"  Place  of  the  Gap."  The  United  States  Govern 
ment  has  honored  him  with  the  office  of  "  Indian 
judge  "  for  the  three  Hopi  villages  at  First  Mesa, 
namely,  Tewa,  Sichumovi,  and  Walpi.  In  1902, 
prior  to  his  acceptance  of  Christ,  he  was  appointed 
chief  of  Siehumovi  by  the  Indian  agent  by  reason 
of  his  great  influence  among  the  Hopi.  His  com 
mission,  elevating  him  to  the  position  of  highest 
honor  in  the  village,  is  one  of  the  judge's  most  val 
ued  possessions. 

During  many  years  before  his  conversion,  Hon- 
geva's  versatile  genius  had  been  a  factor  in  the  en 
richment  of  many  of  the  ceremonial  Hopi  dances 
and  festivities.  Recognizing  him  as  one  deeply 
versed  in  Hopi  traditions,  Dr.  J.  Walter  Fewkes 
secured  his  consent  to  paint  numerous  Hopi  deities 
(kachinas)  to  form  a  part  of  a  permanent  record 
for  the  Bureau  of  American  Ethnology. 

"  God  chose  me  from  among  the  members  of  the 
Snake  clan  for  something,"  Judge  Hongeva  declared 
to  the  writer  with  conviction.  "  In  the  old  Hopi 
way  everything  is  done  in  darkness;  in  the  Jesus 
Road  nothing  is  hidden." 

The  judge  did  not  hesitate  to  lay  bare  the  decep 
tion  which  he  claims  the  priests  of  the  Snake  clan 
have  practised  for  years.  To  maintain  a  position 
of  influence  among  the  Hopi  a  priest  strives  to  be 


98  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

thought  a  man  possessing  supernatural  powers.  To 
this  end,  declared  Judge  Hongeva,  the  Snake  priests 
first  secretly  render  the  rattlesnakes  harmless  and 
then  proclaim  them  as  their  good  little  brothers  and 
handle  them  with  impunity. 

Judge  Hongeva  told  of  the  way  three  white  men 
were  permitted  by  the  Snake  priests  of  First  Mesa 
to  witness  the  capture  of  a  rattlesnake  during  a 
ceremonial  hunt,  and  his  story  was  translated  by 
Steve  Quonestiwa,  of  Second  Mesa,  a  Hopi  who  has 
been  employed  as  an  interpreter  for  many  years 
by  government  officials,  scientists,  and  missionaries. 
The  judge  said: 

"After  our  ancient  custom  we  spend  one  day  in 
kiva  (Hopi  ceremonial  chamber),  then  we  hunt 
snakes  to  the  north.  We  get  some  and  take  them 
to  kiva.  Next  day  we  hunt  to  the  west  and  take 
several  snakes  to  kiva  when  sun  goes  down.  Next 
day  we  go  out  to  the  south.  Before  we  get  to  Five 
Houses  we  see  three  white  men  riding  on  horseback. 
They  say  they  come  out  to  see  the  snake-hunt.  They 
say  they  been  sent  by  government  agent. 

"  All  the  Hopi  say  *  No '  to  white  men. 

"  They  say, '  We  must !  we  are  sent  by  agent.  We 
must  tell  Washington  if  it  is  true  that  you  catch 
rattlesnakes  with  your  hands/ 

"  The  old  men  cry.  They  very  sorry  because 
everybody  might  know  about  it.  We  hold  pow-wow 
with  white  men,  and  they  say  they  must  go  with 
us  as  they  have  orders.  One  man  was  a  doctor,  one 
man  a  carpenter,  and  one  is  Indian  trader.  We  all 
feel  very  bad. 


Good  Little  Brothers  of  Tusayan  99 

"Then  I  say  to  rest  of  Snake  men,  'Let  some 
of  us  go  with  white  men,  and  some  go  to  another 
part  of  the  valley  where  we  will  fix  snake  and  put 
him  under  a  sage-bush  and  call  white  men  to  see 
us  catch  him/ 

"  Then  old  man  named  Mahkiwa,  he  died  last 
year,  he  say :  '  I  have  a  big  snake  in  my  bag.  I  go/ 

"  The  rattlesnake  in  Mahkiwa's  bag  has  poison-sac 
cut  out  and  teeth  all  broken  down,  and  he  can  fight 
no  more.  He  very  harmless  snake.  Mahkiwa  say 
he  will  put  him  under  bush  for  white  men,  and  then 
we  all  come  with  white  men  and  find  him. 

"  In  this  way  we  fool  white  men ;  we  make  a 
circle  around  them  and  want  to  hold  big  pow-wow. 
They  say  we  must  not  make  agent  angry.  We  make 
close  circle  about  them.  Then  Mahkiwa  slide  away 
when  white  men  are  looking  in  our  faces  talking 
loud  all  the  time  and  very  angry.  We  hold  big  pow 
wow  and  make  big  noise  too.  Old  men  cry,  and 
nobody  hear  Mahkiwa  when  he  slide  away  into  lit 
tle  valley  with  big  snake  in  his  bag. 

"  Mahkiwa  puts  snake  under  sage-brush  and 
walks  away  and  hides  behind  another  bush.  After 
long  pow-wow  we  tell  white  men  all  right,  we  let 
them  go  on  snake-hunt  with  us.  Then  all  the  Snake 
men  and  the  white  men  scatter  out  in  valley  near 
Five  Houses.  One  bunch  of  Indians  go  down  into 
the  valley  where  Mahkiwa  is  hiding,  and  when  they 
pass  near  him  old  man  get  up  and  join  in  snake- 
hunt  when  white  men  are  not  looking.  Then  In 
dians  scatter  out  to  find  snake.  Pretty  soon  Mah 
kiwa  call  out,  '  I  found  one! ' 

H 


100  By -Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

"  Snake  did  not  want  to  crawl  away  from  the 
place  where  Mahkiwa  put  him.  He  too  weak  from 
having  his  fangs  broke  down  and  his  poison-sacs 
cut  out.  He  like  it  in  shade. 

"  So  everybody  walked  back  to  where  Mahkiwa 
stood.  The  white  men  come  and  join  Indians  who 
make  big  circle  around  snake. 

"  The  Snake  men  take  corn-meal  and  throw  some 
to  snake.  They  throw  corn-meal  to  the  north,  to 
the  west,  to  the  south,  to  the  east,  and  to  the  sun, 
and  to  the  underworld.  They  sing  songs  to  the 
snake,  and  the  three  white  men  take  meal  and  do 
the  same  thing. 

"  Old  Mahkiwa  come  to  snake  with  his  tsu-wu- 
wah-pi  (snake  whip)  to  chase  him  out.  But  snake 
does  not  want  to  move.  He  act  just  like  all  snakes 
in  snake  dance.  White  men  think  snake  is  charmed. 
Pretty  soon  snake  crawls  out  from  under  bush. 

" '  Look  close! '  Mahkiwa  called  out  to  white  men. 

"  Old  man  grab  snake  close  to  his  head  and  hold 
him  up  for  white  men  to  see.  Then  with  eagle 
feathers  he  rub  the  snake  the  whole  length  of  him. 
Then  he  put  him  in  his  bag. 

"  The  white  men  say :  '  Now  we  see  with  our  own 
eyes.  We  believe  Hopi  Indian  Snake  men  have  a 
strong  power  over  the  snake,  and  we  tell  Washing 
ton  the  truth.' 

"  So  white  men  see  us  catch  rattlesnake." 

Steve  Quonestiwa  is  one  of  the  picturesque  Indian 
characters  of  sunny  Mokiland.  His  uncle,  Lo- 
mamba,  a  former  snake  chief  of  Shipaulovi,  chose 
him  as  his  successor  and  gave  him  a  two-years' 


•c,,. 


Christian    Hopi    Indians    on    the    trail    to    a    heathen 
pueblo  to  hold  a  gospel  street  meeting. 


Good  Little  Brothers  of  Tusayan          101 

training  before  the  old  man  died  and  was  buried 
among  the  rocks  at  the  foot  of  Second  Mesa.  Steve's 
maternal  aunt,  who  had  the  care  of  the  boy,  refused 
to  take  into  her  house  the  tiponi,  the  cherished 
bunch  of  feathers  in  which  the  god  of  the  Snake 
clan  is  supposed  to  reside.  Consequently  it  became 
an  object  of  contention  between  the  more  ambitious 
Snake  men  of  the  village  and  finally  became  the 
property  of  the  present  Snake  priest  of  this  par 
ticular  Hopi  village. 

Quonestiwa  described  for  the  writer  the  method 
of  capturing  the  rattlesnakes  employed  by  the 
Snake  priests  of  Shipaulovi.  At  about  ten  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the  first  day  of  the  ceremonial 
snake-hunt  they  filed  down  the  trail  leading  north 
ward,  their  naked  bodies  painted  with  a  red  earth 
brought  from  the  Grand  Canon.  The  night  had 
been  spent  in  the  kiva  where  the  priests  had  en 
gaged  in  preparatory  ceremonies,  sleeping  heavily 
after  smoking  a  weed  used  in  honor  of  the  god  re 
siding  in  the  tiponi.  Some  carried  sticks  tipped 
with  flat  pieces  of  iron,  while  others  carried  hoes. 
The  chief  priest  carried  a  bag  of  sacred  meal  and 
a  special  kit  of  bone  instruments  wrapped  in  a 
cloth. 

Soon  a  hunter  called  out  that  he  had  discovered 
a  rattlesnake.  The  priests  surrounded  the  bush 
sheltering  the  serpent,  and  all  Hopi  present  who 
were  uninitiated  into  the  Snake  clan  were  ordered 
away.  Then  Chief  Lomamba  gave  meal  to  his 
nephew  and  told  him  to  throw  some  to  the  snake, 
after  which  he  gave  meal  to  the  other  Snake  men. 


102  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

Meal  was  thrown  to  the  snake  and  to  the  sun.  The 
priests  chanted  their  prayers  to  the  rain  god  and 
called  upon  the  rattlesnake  that  had  come  from  the 
underworld  to  be  a  good  brother  and  not  harm  them. 
Had  there  been  two  snakes  together,  the  Hopi  would 
have  ignored  them,  knowing  that  it  is  favorable  to 
the  gods  to  capture  only  the  snakes  that  are  found 
singly. 

With  a  stick  tipped  with  eagle  feathers  a  priest 
succeeded  in  making  the  snake  uncoil  and  crawl 
from  under  the  bush,  whereupon  Lomamba  com 
manded  two  men  who  were  armed  with  sticks  to 
make  the  capture.  When  the  snake  had  been  effec 
tually  pinned  down  a  hoe  was  placed  under  its 
lower  jaw.  Then  one  of  the  hunters  thrust  into 
the  snake's  mouth  one  of  the  thin  iron  tools  and 
by  revolving  the  handle  ever  so  slightly  pried  the 
creature's  mouth  wide  open. 

Kneeling  in  the  sand,  Lomamba  commanded  his 
apprentice  to  come  near  and  watch  his  movements 
closely.  Bending  low  the  priest  revealed  to  the  boy 
the  venom  glands  along  both  cheek  bones  of  the 
serpent. 

"What  do  you  see?"  asked  Lomamba. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Quonestiwa,  the  novice. 

"  You  see  bags  holding  poison.  Now  watch 
everything  that  I  do." 

From  his  roll  of  cloth  Lomamba  took  a  bone  hav 
ing  a  sharp  hook  at  one  end.  With  this  instrument 
he  slashed  the  rattler's  venom  glands. 

After  this  ordeal  the  snake  was  released.  It  lay 
very  still,  as  a  "  good  little  brother  "  should. 


Good  Little  Brothers  of  Tusayan         103 

The  chief  called  a  young  Hopi  from  a  distance 
and  commanded  him  to  pick  up  the  rattlesnake. 

"  The  boy  did  not  want  him,"  said  Steve  Quo- 
nestiwa  when  relating  the  incident.  "  He  cried  and 
tried  to  beg  off.  But  the  priests  circled  around 
and  sang  to  the  snake  and  threw  meal  to  him.  Then 
they  asked  the  snake  not  to  hurt  the  boy,  and  by 
and  by  the  boy  picked  him  up." 

The  sensations  of  one  compelled  to  pick  up  a  live 
rattlesnake  with  his  bare  hands  were  described  by 
Johnson,  a  prominent  Christian  Hopi  of  Oraibi. 

"  When  I  was  a  young  man  they  took  me  into 
the  Snake  clan,"  related  Johnson.  "  After  I  spent 
one  night  in  the  kiva  I  went  out  with  the  snake- 
hunters.  We  scattered  out  over  a  wide  country. 
Pretty  soon  somebody  called  out  that  he  had  found 
a  rattlesnake.  They  call  me.  I  saw  it  under  a  bush. 
They  tell  me  to  pick  up  snake.  The  priest  gave 
me  a  whip  with  feathers  on  the  end  and  told  me  to 
drive  the  snake  out  from  under  the  bush.  He  would 
not  move.  So  men  with  hoes  cut  the  bush  down. 
Now  I  must  pick  up  the  snake.  I  am  afraid  to.  I 
am  surrounded  by  the  old  men,  who  weep  and  beg 
me  to  be  brave.  They  say  if  I  am  a  good  Hopi  the 
snake  will  not  bite  me.  Then  they  throw  meal  to 
snake  and  pray  to  the  snake  not  to  hurt  me.  I 
work  with  my  whip  a  long  time  to  get  the  snake 
to  run  from  me.  Then  I  make  a  quick  grab  and 
hold  snake  up  with  my  arm  straight  out.  My  arm 
trembled  just  like  that  (demonstrating)  and  the 
sweat  rolled  down  my  body.  Then  the  priest  took 
the  snake  and  thanked  him  for  not  biting  me.  Then 


104  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

he  gave  me  a  bag  and  told  me  to  carry  the  snake 
the  rest  of  the  day.  At  sundown  I  carry  him  to 
kiva  and  put  him  in  a  jar  with  other  snakes.  When 
I  got  to  be  a  Snake  man  I  learned  how  to  take  away 
from  rattlesnake  his  power  to  hurt  anybody." 

One  morning  the  announcement  was  made  from 
the  roof  of  a  dwelling  on  Second  Mesa  that  the 
snake-hunt  would  begin  that  day,  and  all  were  ad 
monished  to  call  the  priests  whenever  a  rattlesnake 
should  be  found.  Uwiykaka,  a  youth  who  had  spent 
five  years  in  the  government  school  at  Phoenix, 
heard  the  crier,  but  understood  only  a  few  of  the 
Hopi  words.  He  had  left  home  so  young  and  had 
been  gone  so  long  that  he  had  forgotten  how  to  con 
verse  in  his  native  tongue. 

Uwiykaka  was  accommodating.  He  wanted  to 
see  a  good  snake-dance  with  plenty  of  snakes.  All 
day  he  hunted  alone  on  the  desert  and  returned  to 
the  village  after  sundown  with  one  rattlesnake  in 
the  flour-sack  in  which  he  had  carried  his  lunch. 
The  Snake  men  already  were  assembled  in  the  kiva 
or  underground  den,  to  continue  their  nightly  cere 
monies.  Uwiykaka  knew  that  he  would  not  be  per 
mitted  to  enter  the  kiva,  but  at  least  he  could  throw 
down  his  sack  as  a  love  token  to  the  rain  gods. 

"There's  a  snake  for  you,"  he  called  down 
through  the  hatchway.  He  was  wholly  sincere  in 
his  Hopi  belief  that  the  contribution  would  receive 
a  loving  welcome  below. 

As  if  a  bomb  with  fuse  burning  had  been  hurled 
into  their  sacred  chamber,  the  Snake  men  lost  no 
time  in  climbing  up  the  ladder  to  safety.  The  high 


Good  Little  Brothers  of  Tusayan          105 

priest,  first  to  venture  within  range  of  sudden 
death,  gingerly  seized  the  mouth  of  the  sack  and 
securely  fastened  it  together  with  a  cord.  Then 
he  sent  a  Snake  man  to  Uwiykaka's  home  with  the 
message  that  if  Uwiykaka  planned  to  continue  the 
hunt  he  should  call  the  priests  to  every  snake  he 
found  so  that  they  could  show  due  reverence  with 
the  sacred  meal  and  prayers.  Uwiykaka's  sister, 
who  had  been  at  school  but  had  not  forgotten  the 
language  of  her  tribe,  dutifully  interpreted  this  ad 
monition  to  her  brother,  and  probably  this  was  the 
last  time  so  great  a  number  of  Snake  men  at  one 
time  were  stampeded  by  one  rattlesnake  in  that 
pueblo. 


Ill 

THE  NAVAJO'S  GODS  ARE  SILENT 

"PHILIP,  returning  with  the  sheep  after  an 
A  absence  of  three  days,  found  his  brother's  life 
less  body  lying  on  the  ground  inside  the  hogan. 
Without  warning  had  come  the  Great  Calamity. 
Ted,  his  brother  and  companion,  had  become  a  thing 
to  be  shunned.  The  Navajo  youth  threw  a  blanket 
over  the  object  of  his  dread  and  fled  from  the  log 
shelter. 

To  touch  a  body  that  had  been  dead  three  days, 
according  to  Navajo  traditions,  would  bring  a  curse 
upon  Philip.  Furthermore,  for  him  to  bury  a  human 
body,  however  long  dead,  would  compel  him  to  de 
sist  from  all  work  during  a  period  of  four  days. 
The  sheep,  unshepherded,  would  scatter  upon  the 
desert  to  become  the  prey  of  wildcats,  wolves,  and 
coyotes.  But  he  could  leave  the  sheep  one  day  with 
the  dogs.  At  nightfall  he  must  be  with  them  again. 
To  secure  assistance  in  the  burial  of  his  brother's 
body  was  the  immediate  task,  and  he  was  many  miles 
from  help. 

At  daybreak  next  morning  Philip  took  the  short 
est  trail  to  the  home  of  Hosteen  Nez,  a  Navajo  chief, 
to  ask  that  dignitary  to  intercede  with  the  Indian 
agent  to  the  end  that  white  men  would  be  sent  to 
106 


The  Navajo's  Gods  Are  Silent  107 

bury  the  body  that  had  lain  dead  three  days.  He 
also  interviewed  Belasighi,  another  chief.  But 
neither  head  man  could  get  the  government  aid  for 
Philip  in  his  plan  to  escape  The  Curse.  As  the 
Navajo  were  an  independent,  self-supporting  peo 
ple,  the  burying  of  their  dead  was  not  on  the  list 
of  activities  undertaken  by  Uncle  Sam  in  their  be 
half. 

There  was  one  way  left  for  Philip.  He  could  go 
to  the  Baptist  missionary,  Lee  Thayer,1  who  never 
refused  to  bury  the  dead.  During  two  severe  epi 
demics  all  Navajo  living  within  fifty  miles  and 
more  of  the  missionary's  headquarters  at  Ream's 
Canon  had  been  convinced  of  that.  For  many  weeks 
the  missionary  had  been  driving  his  automobile 
night  and  day  to  reach  the  most  distressing  cases 
of  need. 

Philip  hurried  to  the  missionary's  home  and 
stated  his  errand.  Thayer  learned  that  it  would 
be  impossible  to  reach  the  distant  sheep-camp  by 
automobile,  but  set  out  at  once  on  horseback  with 
the  Navajo  boy.  They  rode  fifteen  miles  over  a 
rough  trail  to  the  top  of  some  bluffs.  Here  the 
boy  halted  and  pointed  down  at  a  hogan  at  the  foot 
of  the  slope.  He  refused  to  go  farther,  and  Thayer 
understood  the  Indian  nature  too  well  to  press  him 
unduly. 

The  missionary  made  camp,  cooked  a  meal,  and 
then  with  pick  and  shovel  went  down  to  begin  his 
task  alone. 

1  See  table  on  page  112  for  statistical  material  with  regard  to  Navajo 
Indian  Mission. 


108  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

Has  there  taken  place  elsewhere  such  a  burial  as 
this?  Acting  as  grave-digger,  pall-bearer,  under 
taker,  minister,  chief  mourner,  and  sympathizing 
friend,  this  missionary  to  a  superstitious  people  has 
performed  many  of  these  lonely  tasks  in  the  Big 
Country  where  no  record  is  made  of  broken  hearts 
by  a  sympathetic  hand. 

The  grave  was  dug;  then  the  body,  wrapped  in 
its  blanket,  was  lowered  to  its  final  resting-place 
within  the  hogan.  When  the  prayer  was  spoken 
and  the  shallow  grave  filled,  the  missionary  closed 
the  entrance  of  the  abandoned  habitation  with  poles 
to  prevent  marauding  coyotes  from  digging  up  the 
body.  When  he  walked  to  the  top  of  the  bluffs  he 
found  Philip  reclining  at  his  ease  indifferently 
smoking  a  cigaret.  The  affair  that  had  taken  place 
at  the  bottom  of  the  slope,  apparently,  was  of  no 
moment  to  the  Navajo.  That  is  the  way  with  an 
Indian.  Yet  somewhere,  deep  in  the  heart  of  the 
youth,  an  impression  must  have  been  made.  Count 
less  acts  of  kindness  of  this  character  have  served 
to  give  Lee  Thayer  a  very  high  place  in  the  estima 
tion  of  red  men  and  whites  on  the  Navajo  Reser 
vation. 

A  party  of  three  that  visited  Lee  Thayer's  field 
recently  remained  long  enough  to  obtain  a  fairly 
accurate  idea  of  the  extent  and  nature  of  the  Na 
vajo  work.  On  one  of  the  long  trips  by  automobile 
it  was  demonstrated  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
visitors  that  a  pick  and  shovel  are  a  necessary  part 
of  this  pastor's  permanent  equipment  for  the  service 
his  unusual  field  demands. 


The  Navajo9  s  Gods  Are  Silent 


109 


Over  the  divide  from  Pinon  to  the  Oraibi  Valley 
is  a  ride  not  quickly  forgotten.  Trails  over  which 
the  camp-wagons  of  the  nomadic  Navajo  sheep- 
owners  may  go  with  impunity  may  be  well-nigh 
impossible  for  the  automobilist.  Before  the  level 
floor  of  the  valley  was  reached  both  Kinney  and 
Morton  were  ready  to  confer  upon  Thayer  the  title 
of  "  master  driver  of  the  world."  After  negotiating 
every  rocky  barrier  over  the  divide,  the  car  was 
nearly  stalled  by  tumble-weeds,  well  cured  by  the 
sun,  that  piled  many  feet  high  in  front  of  the  en 
gine's  hood.  After  escaping  from  these  circus  per 
formers  of  the  vegetable  world,  a  good  road  was 
encountered.  The  mesa  upon  which  Oraibi,  one  of 
the  ancient  and  most  interesting  villages  of  the 
Hopi,  is  built,  thrust  its  rugged  summit  out  of  the 
desert  ten  miles  ahead. 

Just  before  crossing  the  line  separating  the  Na 
vajo  territory  from  Hopiland  the  missionary 
stopped  his  car.  He  pointed  to  a  saddle  lying  upon 
the  ground  a  short  distance  to  the  left.  Without 
comment  he  removed  pick  and  shovel  from  the  ton- 
neau.  The  others  followed  him. 

The  saddle  was  an  old  one  and  badly  wrinkled 
from  exposure  to  rain  and  sun ;  near  it  was  the  skull 
of  a  horse,  a  primitive  irrigating-hoe  such  as  the 
Navajo  and  Hopi  use,  and  near  the  hoe  was  an  old 
coat,  from  one  sleeve  of  which  protruded  the  skel 
eton  fingers  of  a  hand.  Further  search  revealed  a 
human  skull  half-hidden  in  a  small  hole  in  the 
ground  twenty  feet  from  the  coat.  Scattered  every 
where  were  other  bones  of  beast  and  man,  gruesome 


110  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

evidences  of  a  tragedy  that  had  occurred  over 
twelve  months  before. 

A  Navajo  riding  homeward  from  his  corn-field 
during  a  thunder-storm  had  been  struck  down  by 
lightning,  his  horse  being  killed  by  the  same  stroke. 
The  dead  bodies  of  horse  and  rider  remained  in  the 
same  relative  positions  until  the  coyotes  began  their 
work.  No  member  of  the  victim's  family,  no  friend, 
dared  touch  the  remains.  A  curse  rested  upon  the 
ground  where  he  fell,  and  a  new  trail  was  broken 
out  around  the  dreadful  spot  to  give  the  super 
stitious  folk  a  path  safe  from  their  fears. 

It  remained  for  the  missionary  on  one  of  his  more 
extended  trips  to  dig  a  grave  and  perform  a  service 
unrequested  and  unrecorded.  On  this  occasion  his 
labors  were  lightened,  for  he  had  the  assistance  of 
his  visitors. 

The  Navajo  have  many  well-defined  deities,  na 
ture  gods  and  animal  gods,  local  gods  and  gods  that 
are  distant;  they  have  a  vast  mythical  and  legend 
ary  lore  and  hundreds  of  formulas  for  the  preser 
vation  of  life  and  happiness  on  earth ;  their  religious 
ceremonies  are  replete  with  songs  and  prayers 
which  must  be  learned  and  repeated  in  the  most 
exact  manner;  but  in  the  presence  of  death  they 
are  helpless. 

To  lead  this  people  out  from  enslaving  supersti 
tions  into  the  freedom  which  the  gospel  alone  makes 
possible  is  a  task  to  which  the  churches  have  ad 
dressed  themselves.  With  patience,  devotion,  and 
God-given  heroism  missionaries  representing  the 
Baptist  and  other  denominations  are  at  work  among 


The  Navajo's  Gods  Are  Silent 


111 


them.  These  men  and  women  are  far  from  the 
centers  of  population ;  the  problems  they  must  solve 
are  unknown  to  the  great  majority  of  Christian 
workers;  they  are  alone.  Let  us  not  forget  them, 
but  by  our  conscious  remembrance  of  them,  make 
them  more  truly  what  they  are — our  own  hearts  and 
heads  and  hands  about  His  business. 


BAPTIST  WORK  AMONG 
CURRENT  DATA,  1921 


TRIBE  OB 
BAND 

CHURCH 

Year 
Organized 

Total 
Baptisms 

Present 
Membership 

Children  in 
School 

OKLAHOMA 
1  Kiowa 

Rainy  Mountain 

1894 

381 

202 

129 

2  Kiowa    

Elk  Creek    

1894 

58 

50 

25 

3  Comanche 

First    ... 

1&95 

240 

First 

1896 

192 

86 

65 

5  Cheyenne       .  .         .  . 

Second    

1898 

79 

6  Arapaho 

First 

1898 

165 

}  1801 

7  Kiowa    

Saddle   Mountain    . 

1903 

150 

195 

8  Kiowa 

Red   Stone 

1905 

158 

127 

58 

9  Apache    

First   Apache    

1908 

53 

65 

22 

10  Caddo    etc 

Sugar    Creek 

1908 

202 

148 

200 

11  Various  tribes   

Bacone  College   

1912 

316 

210 

200 

12  Cheyenne  and  Arap- 

Calumet    

1913 

113 

153 

40 

13  Concho     Indian 
School    

Concho    

MONTANA 
14  Crow 

Lodge   Grass 

1906 

140 

110 

45 

15  Crow   

Wyola    

W3 

16 

16 

32 

16  Crow 

Pryor 

1917 

57 

57 

48 

17  Crow   

Absaroka    

1<W> 

57 

57 

42 

18  Crow  .           

Black   Lodge 

44 

Reno    

65 

ABIZONA 
30  Hopi    

Second  Mesa 

1904 

38 

28 

18 

21  Hopi                  

First  Mesa 

1907 

49 

38 

20 

FCearos  Canon     .... 

1912 

4 

4 

1 

CALIFORNIA 
Mono   Tribe   Band 
23  Big  Sandy  

Auberrv    ... 

1910 

100 

89 

34 

24  Cold  Spring  

Sycamore 

1913 

75 

65 

25  Table  Mountain  

Table  Moun  tain    
Dunlap    

1914 
1914 

39 
152 

26 
39 

27  Nipinnawasee    

Nipinnawasee 

1918 

23 

21 

28  Chuckchansi    

Coarse  Gold   

1918 

55 

31 

NEVADA 
29  Paiute   .      ..        

Fallon      

1920 

41 

44 

57 

30  Paiute   

Wadsworth    

ivn 

29 

31  Washoe 

Carson  City   . 

1921 

20 

32  Washoe              ..  .  .. 

Gardnersville 

1921 

30 

ALASKA 
33  Kodiak  Orphanage, 
Wood  Island 

1892 

40 

Total    

2,349 

*2345 

1,404 

1  To  get  the  total  of  Indian  Baptist  church-members  in  the  United 
States,  add  to  this  the  following:  Massachusetts,  76:  New  York,  506; 
Oklahoma,  "  Civilized  Tribes,"  total,  4,500.  Total,  in  United  States, 
7,427. 


AMERICAN  INDIANS 
Compiled  by  L.  C.  BARNES,  D.  D. 


Raised  for 
Local  Ex 
penses 

Gifts  to 
Missions 

Acres 
Cultivated 

MISSIONARY 

POST-OFFICE 

Year  of 
Appointment 

$1,197.68 
250.00 

$64.00 
26.00 

2,780 
760 

F    L.  King 

OKLAHOMA 
Mountain   View 

1898 
1898 
1893 
1920 
1917 
1917 
1919 
1S07 
1907 
1904 
1917 

1913 
1920 

1903 
1903 
1920 
1903 
1903 
1903 

1907 
1907 
1907 

1915 

1915 
1915 
1915 
1917 
1917 

1921 
1921 
1921 
1B21 

1S08 

F.  L.  King  

Mountain   View   

E.    C.   Deyo    
G.  W.  Hicks   
fT.  J.  Davis  .... 
IT.  J.  Davis   .... 
William  I.  Parks. 
Harry  H.  Treat  .. 
Harry  H.  Treat  .  . 
W.  A.  Wilkin  .... 
B.   D.   Weeks    .... 

G.  W.  Hicks  
G.  W.  Hicks  

W.  A.  Petzoldt  .. 
W.  A.  Petzoldt  .. 
George  E.  Black  . 
W.  A.  Petzojdt  .. 
W.  A.  Petzoldt  .. 
W.  A.  Petzoldt  .. 

Lee  I.  Thayer  ... 
Lee  I.  Thayer  ... 
Lee  I.  Thayer  ... 

J.   G.   Brendel  ... 
J.   G.   Brendel   ... 
J.   G.   Brendel   ... 
J.   G.   Brendel    ... 
Neas-je-gar-gath    . 
Neas-je-gar-gath    . 

J.  Winfield  Scott  . 
J.  Winfleld  Scott  . 
J.  Winfield  Scott  . 
J.  Winfleld  Scott  . 

George  A.  Learn  . 

350.00 
660.00 

223.80 
477.73 
12.00 
100.00 

25.00 

3,500 
300 

'1,270 
800 

Calumet 

Watonga    

62.08 
74.73 
5.00 
90.00 
5,000.00 

45.00 

Watonga    
Saddle   Mountain    

Anardarko    ... 

Anardarko    

Wichita  Mission    
Bacon  e  College 

160 
4,300 
200 

350 
300 

275.00 

Calumet    

Calumet 

425.00 
700.00 
250.00 
300.00 
850.00 
750.00 

95.06 
16.47 

280.00 
125.00 
225.00 
180.00 
100.00 
100.00 

422.20 
243.07 
96.90 

46.75 

MONTANA 
Lodge  Grass        

Lodge  Grass 

Pryor 

Lodge  Grass 

Lodge  Grass   

Lodge  Grass  

ARIZONA 
Keams  Canon    

Keams  Cafton 

Keams  Cafton 

167.25 
63.40 
46.75 
85.20 
91.20 
84.00 

12.87 

CALIFORNIA 
Clovis 

Clovis 

Clovis 

36160 



Clovis    

Coarse  Gold 

89.00 

1,500 

NEVADA 
Reno     . 

Reno 

Reno 

ALASKA 
Kodiak,  Wood  Island  .. 

$7,133.61 

$7,662.33 

16,220 

The  great  majority  of  the  5,000  Baptist  members  in  Mexico  are  largely 
of  Indian  blood.  The  same  is  true  of  the  780  in  Central  America,  so 
that  in  North  America  we  have  about  13,500  original  American  members 
and  at  least  three  times  as  many  adherents. 


m 


THE  CALL  OF  MOUNTAIN  AND 
PRAIRIE 


RELIGIOUS  DESTITUTION  IN  REMOTE 
AREAS 

TODAY  there  are  many  sections  in  the  mountain 
ous  regions  of  the  West  and  Northwest  where 
hundreds  of  people  cannot  attend  a  religious  service, 
not  even  a  Sunday  school,  without  traveling  from 
twenty  to  fifty  miles  over  mountain  ranges,  because 
no  service  is  held  nearer.  Most  of  this  territory 
is  back  from  the  railroads,  or  on  branch  lines  only. 
But  there  are  in  these  remote  sections  many  rich 
and  productive  valleys  and  numerous  mining-camps. 
The  valleys,  while  thoroughly  isolated,  generally 
are  thickly  settled  by  miners,  farmers,  and  stock- 
growers.  Because  of  their  isolation,  and  sometimes 
because  of  severe  climate,  these  valleys  have  been 
overlooked  and  neglected  by  pastor  and  missionary, 
and  so  the  religious  destitution  exists. 

One  of  these  counties  has  an  area  of  more  than 
5,000  square  miles,  and  yet  religious  work  is  car 
ried  on  in  only  four  or  five  places  in  the  entire 
county.  Out  of  the  twenty-four  school  districts  in 
the  county,  twenty-one  are  without  religious  work 
of  any  kind.  Another  county  has  an  area  of  4,600 
square  miles,  and  out  of  the  eighteen  school  dis 
tricts  only  three  have  any  religious  work  carried 
on  in  a  regular  way.  These  concrete  examples  of 

117 


118  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

religious  destitution  emphasize  the  need  of  home- 
mission  work  yet  to  be  done  in  the  West. 

"  My  field  is  a  large  one,  demanding  a  man's  full 
time,"  declared  a  Baptist  missionary  pastor  in  Ne 
braska  a  few  weeks  ago.  "  I  wish  to  assure  any 
inquirer  who  likes  to  do  a  pioneer  work  that  he 
need  not  fear  lonesomeness  in  these  sand-hills,  as 
there  are  calls  for  one's  service  every  minute  of  the 
day,  and  often  at  night.  He  must  construct  his 
sermons  on  the  road  and  on  the  move.  He  has 
little  time  to  sit  at  the  desk.  Sometimes  when  he 
feels  like  reaching  for  the  brakes,  so  many  needs 
arise  to  plead  in  Macedonian  fashion  that  before  he 
knows  it — like  Paul — the  love  of  Christ  constrains 
him,  and  he  is  on  the  go  again.  The  writer  of  a 
recent  article  in  one  of  our  papers  asks  if  any  more 
of  our  old  pioneer  Christian  work  is  being  done.  I 
wish  he  would  come  over  and  help  us — he  would 
not  question  as  to  the  existence  of  pioneer  work. 

"  Baptist  pastors  are  scarce  around  here,  and  one 
longs  at  times  to  meet  one.  I  am  the  only  Baptist 
preacher  for  two  hundred  miles  east  and  west.  We 
desire  the  prayers  of  God's  people  that  every  nook 
and  corner  of  this  great  field  be  reached." 

These  fields  call  for  a  special  type  of  manhood. 
If  a  man  has  devotion,  grit,  aggressiveness,  love  for 
hard  work,  and  a  missionary  spirit,  he  will  find 
opportunities  out  in  these  fields  that  will  make  his 
heart  rejoice.  If  he  is  the  right  sort  of  man,  pos 
sessed  of  consecration  and  tact,  he  will  find  a  hearty 
welcome  awaiting  him  and  a  ready  response  upon 
the  part  of  those  to  whom  he  brings  the  glad  news. 


Religious  Destitution  in  Remote  Areas     119 

Here  is  a  sample  two-weeks'  schedule  of  one  of 
our  own  missionary  pastors  in  Idaho  undertaken 
before  the  automobile  was  introduced  in  a  general 
way  on  remote  mission  fields: 

On  Tuesday  morning  the  missionary  left  Belle- 
vue  for  Soldier,  thirty-five  miles  to  the  west,  and 
preached  at  that  church  Tuesday  night.  Wednes 
day  he  drove  the  thirty-five  miles  back  to  Bellevue 
and  conducted  the  church  prayer-meeting.  On 
Thursday  he  drove  from  Bellevue  to  Carey,  twenty- 
two  miles  to  the  southeast,  and  conducted  the 
prayer-meeting  at  that  church.  Friday  he  started 
for  the  Lost  River  Valley  to  the  east,  driving  the 
first  day  to  Dead  Man's  Flat,  twenty-five  miles.  On 
Saturday  he  drove  from  Dead  Man's  Flat  to  Lost 
River,  forty-five  miles,  and  preached  Sunday  morn 
ing  and  evening  at  Lost  River  and  at  an  outstation 
in  the  afternoon.  Monday  was  given  to  doing  pas 
toral  work  on  Lost  River.  Tuesday  he  drove  back 
as  far  as  Dead  Man's  Flat,  forty-five  miles.  Wed 
nesday  he  drove  from  Dead  Man's  Flat  to  Picabo, 
thirty-two  miles,  and  conducted  prayer-meeting 
with  that  church.  Thursday  he  traveled  from 
Picabo  to  Carey  for  the  purpose  of  conducting  a 
prayer-meeting  there.  Friday  and  Saturday  were 
given  to  pastoral  work  at  Picabo  and  Carey.  On 
Sunday  morning  he  preached  at  Carey,  drove  seven 
miles  to  Picabo  for  an  afternoon  service,  and  then 
drove  fifteen  miles  to  Bellevue  for  the  evening  ser 
vice.  Monday  was  given  to  pastoral  work  in  Belle 
vue,  and  on  Tuesday  morning  he  again  started  for 
Soldier  on  his  regular  two-weeks'  schedule. 


120  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

This  required  him  to  drive  268  miles  between 
regular  points,  and  necessitated  having  at  his  dis 
posal  three  or  four  teams.  The  extra  pastoral  work 
and  side-trips  required  from  fifty  to  seventy-five 
miles  additional  travel,  so  during  the  two  weeks  he 
traveled  regularly  by  team  from  300  to  350  miles, 
cared  for  five  organized  churches,  and  two  or  three 
outstations,  preached  seven  or  eight  sermons,  and 
conducted  eight  prayer-meetings.  This  might  be 
considered  a  fairly  busy  period.  During  one  cal 
endar  year,  by  actual  record,  he  had  his  team 
hitched  up  every  day  in  the  year,  including  holi 
days,  to  drive  somewhere  in  the  interest  of  his  work 
as  a  missionary.  Yet  there  was  not  an  overlapping 
of  denominational  lines  in  this  territory,  which  at 
that  time  was  almost  destitute  of  workers. 

When  so  much  of  the  missionary's  time  was  taken 
up  on  the  road,  in  making  calls  and  conducting  ser 
vices,  what  time  was  there  left  for  study?  The 
question  can  be  answered  briefly — the  missionary 
spent  little  time  in  his  study  during  those  early 
days.  And  was  his  efficiency  as  a  preacher  lessened 
accordingly?  The  testimony  of  those  most  familiar 
with  the  missionary's  preaching  accords  with  one 
pioneer's  declaration,  "He  was  a  good  preacher  just 
the  same." 

How  did  the  missionary  overcome  the  tremen 
dous  obstacle  of  no  time  for  sermonizing?  In  the 
first  place,  he  had  a  remarkable  amount  of  the 
Scriptures  stored  in  memory  as  a  result  of  the  thor 
oughgoing  religious  training  which  he  had  received 
at  home.  Then  he  memorized  chapter  after  chapter 


Oregon  lumberman.     Among  the  neglected  folks. 


A  Rocky  Mountain  railroad  section  gang  often  visited 
by  one  of  our  colporter-missionaries. 


Religious  Destitution  in  Remote  Areas     121 

of  the  Bible  while  going  on  his  rounds.  He  did 
this  systematically.  He  would  analyze  each  chap 
ter,  memorize  the  outline,  and  then  the  contents  of 
the  chapter.  He  memorized  the  contents  of  a  book 
by  chapters.  Sometimes  he  spoke  in  a  schoolhouse 
where  there  were  no  lights,  which  necessitated  his 
repeating  from  memory  a  passage  of  Scripture. 
But  this  was  only  one  of  the  advantages  of  his  sys 
tem  of  Bible  study.  When  endeavoring  to  present 
the  gospel  in  conversation  with  unsaved  men  and 
women  he  had  ready-to-hand  material  from  the 
Bible  to  apply  when  needed. 

For  homiletical  material  he  used  the  best  things 
which  came  under  his  notice  every  day.  His  the 
ological  school  was  the  school  of  observation  and 
experience  conducted  in  the  big  out-of-doors  where 
he  came  in  contact  with  a  people  whose  efforts  were 
constantly  pitted  against  the  passive  resistance  of 
one  of  America's  most  fiercely  rugged  frontiers. 
His  message  was  always  one  fitted  to  the  audience 
which  he  found  waiting  for  him.  An  afternoon  or 
evening  service  in  some  remote  schoolhouse  fur 
nished  him  only  another  opportunity  to  make  appli 
cation  of  one  of  several  texts  which  he  might  have 
been  using  during  his  conversations  that  day  with 
men  and  women  whom  he  had  met  in  their  homes, 
in  the  hay-fields,  in  lonely  mining-camps,  or  on  the 
desert  trail. 

He  tried  earnestly  to  let  no  opportunity  pass  by 
to  speak  a  word  for  his  Master.  His  habit  of  going 
to  the  Scriptures  for  light  in  the  solution  of  every 
personal  problem  has  been  characteristic  of  his 


122  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

work  all  the  way  along.  The  habit  led  to  many 
striking  victories. 

This  missionary  was  being  entertained  at  supper 
in  a  certain  home  in  an  isolated  community  one 
day  late  in  November.  That  night  he  was  to  preach 
in  the  schoolhouse.  In  that  home  there  was  a  girl 
about  twelve  years  of  age  who  was  in  high  feather 
because  she  was  going  to  be  "  dressed  up  "  for  the 
first  time  in  five  months.  The  mother  got  out  her 
daughter's  best  dress,  which  had  not  been  worn 
since  the  Fourth  of  July.  The  little  United  States 
flag  still  clung  to  it.  There  had  been  no  occasion 
to  dress  the  child  in  her  finery  since  the  Fourth  of 
July  celebration,  and  it  was  late  in  November.  It 
was  an  epitome  of  the  whole  situation — no  Sunday. 
Now  in  that  community  today — after  the  coming 
of  the  home  missionary — the  boys  and  girls  are 
dressed  up  and  go  to  church  every  Sunday. 

Eighty-five  miles  from  Bellevue  is  the  Hagerman 
Valley.  The  missionary,  learning  of  the  need  of  the 
gospel  in  that  section,  thought  it  not  too  far  to  drive 
over  and  do  a  bit  of  prospecting.  He  held  meetings 
in  the  schoolhouses  of  the  valley.  He  was  instru 
mental  in  organizing  a  church  which  still  is  pros 
pering.  One  night  he  was  in  a  schoolhouse  holding 
a  meeting.  It  was  a  very  small  building.  At  the 
close  of  the  service  he  went  back  to  the  door  to 
shake  hands  with  the  people.  A  young  woman  with 
a  baby  in  her  arms  was  passing  out  when  another 
woman  spoke  to  her. 

"  That  was  a  good  sermon." 

"  Was  it  ?  "  replied  the  woman  carrying  the  baby. 


Religious  Destitution  in  Remote  Areas     123 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth  I  don't  know  how  to  judge 
sermons.  That  was  the  first  sermon  I  ever  heard." 

The  nearest  regular  church  service  was  thirty 
miles  away.  The  missionary  felt  repaid.  He  was 
glad  that  he  had  driven  eighty-five  miles  to  give 
the  gospel  story  to  a  young  mother  who  had  never 
heard  a  sermon. 

Whatever  these  frontier  people  have  they  give 
freely  for  the  religious  development  of  their  com 
munities.  Among  the  many  remarkable  characters 
discovered  by  the  Idaho  missionary  pastor  just  re 
ferred  to  were  Adam  Ifland  and  his  wife  Mary,  of 
Silver  Creek  Valley.  They  came  from  Kansas  in  an 
early  day  and  located  on  a  homestead  near  the 
present  town  of  Picabo.  They  were  industrious  and 
thrifty,  and  it  was  not  long  before  they  owned  one 
of  the  best  ranches  in  the  valley.  Inasmuch  as  they 
found  themselves  in  a  godless  community  their 
hearts  were  profoundly  stirred,  and  until  they  did 
something  to  relieve  the  situation  they  enjoyed  no 
peace  of  mind  or  contentment.  Accordingly  they 
started  a  Sunday  school  in  a  little  log  house  that 
stood  near  the  old  emigrant  trail.  The  shanty  was 
devoid  of  all  furniture  and  the  chinking  had  fallen 
out  from  between  the  logs.  The  neighbors  who 
gathered  in  the  building  on  a  Sunday  afternoon 
could  look  through  the  cracks  and  tell  who  was 
coming. 

Adam  Ifland  heard  that  the  Baptist  preacher  at 
Bellevue  was  willing  to  do  missionary  work  else 
where. 

"  I  will  go  up  and  see  this  preacher  and  persuade 


124  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

him  to  hold  some  meetings  here,"  he  said  to  Mary, 
his  good  wife. 

He  drove  eighteen  miles  with  his  mule-team  and 
met  the  missionary.  Ifland  told  him  about  the  situ 
ation  in  Silver  Creek  Valley  and  asked  him  to  come 
to  their  help. 

At  the  earliest  opportunity  the  missionary  went 
down  and  began  a  series  of  meetings  in  a  rude  struc 
ture  called  the  Le  Due  schoolhouse.  He  was  enter 
tained  by  Adam  and  Mary  Ifland  in  their  humble 
frontier  home,  built  on  a  hillside. 

Although  it  was  a  cold  winter,  people  rode  in  to 
church  from  great  distances.  The  people  of  the 
immediate  community  greatly  rejoiced  in  the  meet 
ings,  which  went  on  with  power,  resulting  in  not 
a  few  conversions.  In  time  arrangements  were 
made  to  hold  Sunday  school  in  the  Le  Due  school- 
house  and  steps  were  taken  to  organize  a  church. 

In  the  meantime  a  friendship  sprang  up  between 
the  missionary  and  Adam  and  Mary  Ifland  which 
has  ripened  with  the  years.  And  this  was  no  ordi 
nary  friendship.  It  was  beautiful.  The  Ifland 
home  came  to  mean  for  the  missionary  something 
more  than  a  stopping-place.  It  became  his  home. 
He  turned  to  it  for  perfect  rest  and  friendly  peace. 
Here  he  found  unreserved  sympathy  and  confidence. 
In  the  house  of  Adam  and  Mary  and  their  son  Wal 
ter  he  threw  aside  restraint  and  became  a  boy 
again.  Mrs.  Ifland  mothered  him  as  she  would  have 
done  were  he  an  actual  son.  She  mended  his  clothes, 
sewed  on  his  buttons,  cared  for  his  laundry,  cooked 
the  fish  he  caught  and  the  sage-hens  he  shot,  pro- 


Religious  Destitution  in  Remote  Areas     125 

vided  him  with  good  meals  to  take  on  his  long 
drives,  and  nursed  him  when  he  was  sick.  The 
quiet,  restful  constancy  of  these  devoted  friends 
was  a  sustaining  force  in  the  young  man's  life  dur 
ing  the  strenuous  years  of  his  early  ministry.  It 
was  spiritually  recreating  to  sit  at  their  fireside 
and  review  all  of  the  experiences,  both  inspiring 
and  depressing,  which  had  been  his  since  his  pre 
vious  visit  to  Silver  Creek  Valley. 

If  the  missionary  required  a  fresh  team  to  take 
him  to  Camas  Prairie  or  Big  Lost  River  he  knew 
he  could  get  it  at  Iflands'.  If  his  buggy  broke  down 
he  knew  he  could  get  another  at  Iflands'.  Adam 
made  him  a  remarkable  cutter  at  his  own  forge, 
which  is  almost  in  as  good  condition  today  as  it 
was  twenty-three  years  ago.  This  cutter  was  at 
the  old  Ifland  ranch  when  the  writer  saw  it,  and 
it  looked  capable  of  carrying  a  missionary  on  his 
rounds  for  many  years  to  come. 

Adam  Ifland  would  have  given  away  his  farm 
sooner  than  deny  the  missionary  a  horse  if  the  lat 
ter  needed  one.  Yet  he  had  a  quaint  habit  of  grum 
bling  about  his  absent  horses. 

"  Now,  Adam,"  admonished  Mary,  "  you  know 
the  preacher  must  have  that  horse." 

"  He'll  have  to  pay  for  it,"  declared  Adam,  who 
didn't  care  a  fig  about  the  horse,  but  to  hear  his 
wife  talk  about  "the  preacher"  was  music  to  his 
ears.  "  If  he  don't,  I  won't  let  him  have  another." 

"Now,  Adam,  ain't  you  ashamed?" 

Then  Adam  would  chuckle  softly  to  himself  and 
subside. 


II 

VICTORY  ON  LITTLE  LOST 

ONE  day  word  came  from  the  Little  Lost  River 
Valley  that  some  gospel  meetings  in  that  re 
mote  section  of  Idaho  would  be  appreciated.  The 
Little  Lost  River  schoolhouse  was  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  miles  from  the  home  of  the  missionary. 
Would  he  come?  To  reach  the  place  he  must  drive 
across  a  desert  country  and  over  a  range  of  moun 
tains.  He  wrote  that  he  would  come. 

After  the  long  difficult  drive  he  arrived  at  the 
Hawley  Ranch,  which  at  that  time  was  rented  by 
a  man  named  George  Walker.  This  was  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  of  travel. 
He  was  heartily  welcomed  by  Mrs.  Walker,  and 
shortly  afterward  met  the  four  Walker  children  and 
their  school-teacher,  Miss  Hattie  Moe,  an  estimable 
young  woman  who  had  received  her  education  in 
the  Presbyterian  school  at  Mt.  Pleasant,  Utah. 

Round-eyed  with  curiosity,  the  two  younger 
Walker  children  sized  up  the  preacher  and  then 
began  to  beg  their  mother  to  allow  them  to  get 
ready  for  church  at  once.  No  supper  for  them! 
Excitement  had  very  effectually  banished  their 
appetites. 

The  four-mile  trip  was  made  to  the  schoolhouse 
in  a  lumber-wagon,  and  the  party  consisted  of  the 
126 


Victory  on  Little  Lost  127 

excited  children,  the  father  and  mother,  the  school- 
ma'am,  and  the  missionary. 

When  the  party  got  back  to  the  ranchhouse  a  fire 
was  built,  and  all  sat  about  the  stove  to  get  warm 
before  going  to  bed.  For  some  time  an  unbroken 
quietness  prevailed.  At  length  the  mother  spoke : 

"  It  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  know  what  this 
night  means  to  me,"  she  said.  "  It  has  been  four 
teen  years  since  I  have  been  to  church.  And  dur 
ing  all  this  time  I  have  longed  for  an  occasion  like 
this.  There  has  not  been  a  church  service  closer 
than  twenty  miles  from  us  during  the  fourteen 
years  I  have  been  here." 

The  very  hunger  in  the  woman's  soul  was  re 
vealed  by  her  voice.  The  silence  broken,  the  chil 
dren  were  encouraged  to  speak. 

The  older  girl,  sixteen  years  of  age,  said  that  she 
never  had  been  to  a  preaching  service  before.  Once 
she  had  attended  Sunday  school  thirty  miles  away 
when  she  was  a  guest  at  the  home  of  her  school 
teacher.  The  child,  next  in  age,  a  winsome  girl  of 
fourteen,  said  she  did  not  know  what  a  Sunday 
school  was  like.  The  father  remained  silent  during 
it  all.  He  was  not  a  Christian.  His  thoughts  were 
too  deep  for  words  that  night. 

It  was  close  to  the  midnight  hour  before  the 
good-nights  were  said.  Wearied  by  the  strenuous 
activities  of  a  long  day,  the  missionary  went  to 
sleep  at  once.  How  long  he  slept  he  did  not  know, 
but  suddenly  he  found  himself  awake,  listening  to 
sounds  in  the  kitchen.  He  could  not  believe  it  was 
time  to  dress.  Striking  a  match,  he  looked  at  his 


128  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

watch.  It  was  two  o'clock.  And  then  he  remem 
bered  hearing  Mrs.  Walker  tell  her  older  daughter 
that  they  would  "  do  the  supper  dishes "  after 
church.  And  there  had  been  a  stack  of  them.  Mrs. 
Walker  had  provided  supper  not  only  for  the  mem 
bers  of  her  family,  but  for  the  preacher,  the  school 
teacher,  three  or  four  hired  men,  two  freighters,  a 
traveler,  and  a  gang  of  threshers.  Hers  was  the 
first  human  habitation  at  the  end  of  a  long  desert 
journey,  and  she  turned  no  one  away  from  her 
table. 

Two  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  Mrs.  Walker  still 
washing  dishes.  The  realization  of  her  isolation 
and  her  longing  during  fourteen  years  for  a  chance 
to  attend  a  gospel  service  stirred  the  missionary 
deeply  as  he  waited  for  daylight.  There  could  be 
no  more  sleep  for  him  that  night.  He  thought  of 
the  many  settled  communities  elsewhere  and  of 
countless  households  enjoying  their  rest.  Where 
the  church-bells  had  rung  that  night,  how  many 
people  had  responded?  We  could  well  wish  for 
some  power  to  enable  every  one  to  feel  as  this  young 
missionary  felt  that  night. 

Again  and  again  the  missionary's  thoughts  came 
back  to  this  frontier  woman  who  had  been  washing 
dishes  from  midnight  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing  because  she  wanted  to  travel  four  miles  in  a 
lumber-wagon  to  attend  church,  and  this  after  cook 
ing  supper  for  a  score  of  people. 

Presently  the  house  grew  still.  Two  hours  passed. 
Again  there  were  noises  in  the  kitchen.  A  woman's 
voice  softly  hummed  a  gospel  hymn.  It  was  four 


Victory  on  Little  Lost 


129 


o'clock  and  pitch  dark,  yet  Mrs.  Walker  already 
had  begun  the  tasks  of  another  day. 

The  missionary  remained  in  the  Little  Lost  River 
Valley  country  two  weeks,  spending  all  of  his  nights 
at  the  Walker  home.  During  this  time  Mrs.  Wal 
ker  missed  but  one  service. 

Among  the  first  Little  Lost  River  Valley  con 
verts  were  the  Walker  children.  Then  one  night, 
soon  afterward,  the  father  yielded  his  heart  to 
Christ,  and  joy  without  measure  came  to  the 
Walker  home. 

Mr.  Walker  had  been  a  hard  drinker.  As  far 
back  as  the  Walker  girls  could  remember,  their 
father's  drunken  return  from  Idaho  Falls,  when 
ever  he  went  there  for  supplies,  was  an  event  to 
be  dreaded.  During  the  last  week  of  the  meetings 
Mr.  Walker  had  occasion  to  drive  to  Idaho  Falls. 
The  trip  necessitated  an  absence  of  two  days.  The 
prayers  of  the  wife  and  missionary  followed  him. 
Would  he  be  able  to  resist  the  awful  temptation? 

The  missionary  was  at  the  ranch  when  Mrs. 
Walker  caught  sight  of  her  husband  coming  back 
over  the  divide.  He  was  in  the  room  when  the 
ranchman  walked  in  with  a  swift,  steady  stride. 

"  I  didn't  touch  a  drop,  mother !  "  he  cried.  "  I've 
won  my  fight !  " 

He  placed  in  the  hand  of  his  wife  a  Bible  and  a 
copy  of  Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim's  Progress."  When  she 
saw  these  books  and  realized  what  the  bringing  of 
them  meant  to  him,  to  her,  and  to  the  children,  her 
heart  welled  up  with  a  happiness  too  great  to  ex 
press.  The  missionary  left  the  room,  bearing  with 


130  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

him  a  vision  of  holy  domestic  joy  which  never  will 
be  effaced  from  his  memory. 

God  permits  some  men  to  amass  their  millions, 
but  he  permits  others  to  gather  other  riches — riches 
infinite  and  incalculable,  and  which  neither  moth 
nor  rust  can  corrupt. 


Ill 


BLOCKING  A  FUNERAL 


A  MISSIONARY  pastor-at-large,  representing 
the  American  Baptist  Home  Mission  Society, 
arrived  unannounced  in  Ordway,  Colorado,  April 
30,  1919,  the  day  set  by  the  few  local  Baptists  to 
disband  and  close  up  the  church.  He  appeared  at 
the  conference  and  suggested  a  series  of  revival 
meetings  instead  of  a  funeral.  A  few  welcomed  the 
suggestion,  others  demurred.  Why  a  revival  in  the 
Baptist  church?  Hardly  a  person  in  town  would 
come.  Had  not  the  Methodist  church  just  closed 
its  revival  meetings  which  had  resulted  in  several 
Baptists  uniting  with  that  church,  giving  as  their 
excuse  that  the  Baptists  amounted  to  nothing?  The 
best  workers  had  moved  away,  there  were  not  a 
dozen  members  left  and  not  a  business  man  among 
them  and  no  families  of  influence  at  all — so  they 
said.  And  in  addition  to  all  this  the  school  board 
had  taken  over  the  church  building  and  had  filled 
it  with  school  desks  and  held  school  in  it  every  day. 
There  was  no  end  of  obstacles  in  the  way  of  a 
revival  of  Baptist  interest  in  that  town. 

It  was  a  fortunate  occurrence  for  Ordway  that 
the  few  gathered  in  the  little  Baptist  church  that 
night  decided  to  act  upon  the  missionary's  sugges 
tion.     He   informed   the   group   that   evangelistic 
K  131 


132  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

meetings  would  begin  the  following  night.  The 
next  day  a  handbill  announcing  the  services  was  put 
into  every  home  in  town,  and  the  missionary  vis 
ited  every  member  of  the  Baptist  church  living  in 
town  and  called  upon  all  the  business  firms  in  town 
and  made  an  announcement  to  every  grade  in  the 
grammar  and  high  school.  Before  night  everybody 
in  the  community  knew  that  a  Baptist  preacher 
was  in  town  ready  to  begin  work  that  night. 

The  house  was  packed.  Some  doubtful  Baptists, 
coming  late,  found  no  seats  vacant.  A  service  was 
held  in  the  church  every  night  for  nearly  a  month. 
No  hall  or  other  church  could  be  rented,  so  each 
day  after  school  the  school  desks  were  taken  out 
and  the  pews  put  in,  and  at  night  after  service  the 
pews  were  taken  out  and  the  school  desks  put  in. 

The  evangelistic  meetings  were  well  attended  and 
resulted  in  a  gratifying  number  of  additions  by 
letter  and  baptism.  When  the  meetings  closed  the 
annual  meeting  of  the  church  was  put  before  the 
people  as  an  event  to  plan  for  in  a  large  way.  The 
business  meeting  was  preceded  by  a  banquet  held 
at  a  hotel.  Places  were  set  for  one  hundred  mem 
bers  and  guests.  Visiting  brethren  from  Denver, 
Pueblo,  Rocky  Ford,  and  Lamar  spoke  in  an  encour 
aging  way  with  regard  to  the  work  in  Ordway.  The 
meeting  did  not  break  up  until  near  midnight  nor 
before  the  church-members  had  indicated  in  the 
form  of  cash  and  pledges  how  earnestly  they  desired 
to  repair  the  church,  secure  a  parsonage,  and  call 
a  pastor. 

Now  followed  many  days  of  toil  for  the  mission- 


» 

sr 

s 

w 


g 


Blocking  a  Funeral  133 

ary  who  went  out  during  the  day  raising  money  or 
worked  as  a  carpenter  or  painter  or  gardener  on 
the  church  property.  When  he  had  finished  his 
various  tasks  a  pastor  was  called,  and  a  salary  of 
$1,500  a  year  and  the  free  use  of  a  parsonage  voted 
him.  After  all  incumbrances  had  been  paid  on  the 
church  property,  the  community  staged  a  surprise 
for  the  missionary  pastor-at-large  in  one  of  the  city 
parks,  on  which  occasion  a  gold  watch  was  pre 
sented  to  him. 

Here  is  the  summary  of  work  done  to  transform 
a  down-and-out  church  to  one  that  is  doing  an 
aggressive  and  acceptable  work  in  the  growing  com 
munity  of  Ordway : 

Months  of  service 5 

Visits  made  in  homes 1,460 

Visits  to  other  churches  in  Colorado 28 

Sermons  delivered 108 

Bibles  given  out 20 

Number  of  pages  of  tracts  distributed ....  4,000 

Number  of  persons  baptized 10 

Sunday  schools  2 

Miles  traveled 4,244 

Letters  written 1,560 

Raised  in  cash  and  pledges $5,158.59 

Not  long  ago  a  letter  was  received  at  the  New 
York  headquarters  of  the  Home  Mission  Society 
from  Ordway,  Colorado,  giving  this  particular  nar 
rative  a  very  happy  ending.  In  it  we  learn  that 
the  Ordway  Baptists,  since  the  missionary  left 


134  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

them,  have  kept  on  making  progress.  They  are 
paying  their  pastor  the  salary  agreed  upon,  and 
paying  it  regularly;  they  have  purchased  a  $400 
piano;  they  have  organized  a  choir;  they  have  a 
Sunday  school  of  a  hundred;  they  are  receiving 
substantial  increases  in  church-membership;  a  re 
vival  conducted  by  the  pastor  is  in  progress,  and 
they  are  about  to  build  the  auditorium  of  the 
church,  the  part  in  which  they  worship  at  present 
being  the  Sunday  school  and  social  room  in  a  larger 
architectural  plan. 


IV 


SO  THAT  THEIR  LIVES  MAY  NOT  BE 
BARREN 

(A  Colporter-Missionary  Finds  Time  to  Write.) 

I  DON'T  feel  very  well  just  now.  I  have  been  up 
to  the  dentist  and  had  nineteen  teeth  pulled  in 
one  sitting.  So  I  can't  do  anything  for  awhile  but 
write  reports  and  letters. 

Now  as  to  that  car :  I  have  filled  out  the  answers 
to  your  questions  and  enclose  the  slip.  It  is  No. 
18 ;  has  been  used  four  years  next  month ;  on  Janu 
ary  1,  1921,  it  will  have  run  31,985  miles.  It  cost 
about  $400  when  new.  I  think  it  is  worth  about 
$200  yet,  which  is  a  wonder.  It  must  be,  in  view 
of  that  wonderful  dedicatory  prayer  of  Doctor  Mills 
at  the  conference  at  Oakland,  when  he  prayed  for 
"  every  spoke  "  and  "  every  bolt "  and  "  every  other 
part  of  that  car." 

Yes,  I  should  be  willing  to  pay  $200  for  it  yet, 
if  I  could  buy  it.  It  runs  easy,  but  needs  some 
more  repairs.  The  right  sill  in  the  main  frame  is 
bent  and  cracked ;  the  top  is  somewhat  rickety,  one 
tire  quite  worn,  and  the  whole  car  needs  a  coat  of 
paint  in  the  spring.  But  I  think  I  can  do  the  most 
of  this  work  myself  when  it  gets  a  little  warmer. 
I  could  do  it  now,  while  I  am  laid  up,  if  I  only  could 

135 


136  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

find  a  warm  place  to  work  in.  But  it  can  be  used 
the  way  it  is  for  a  while  yet.  I  always  used  to  give 
it  a  coat  of  paint  in  the  spring-time  and  the  wheels 
two  or  three  coats,  which  has  preserved  them,  so 
that  there  is  not  a  spoke  loose  yet — even  after  that 
hard  drive  up  in  Cherry  County  last  summer,  when 
I  broke  both  axles  and  springs  and  the  main  cross- 
member  and  several  other  things.  I  hope  I  shall 
never  need  to  put  it  to  such  a  test  again.  I  think 
it  is  better  to  let  some  one  with  a  new  car  take 
such  places,  or  better  go  horseback  or  with  an 
aeroplane. 

I  have  not  seen  my  family  since  early  last  fall, 
and  don't  expect  to  get  home  until  some  time  in  the 
spring — and  yet  I  love  and  long  for  my  home  and 
family  as  much  as  any  man.  I  have  walked  eight 
miles  at  midnight  against  a  snow-storm  when  it 
was  twenty  below  zero,  just  for  a  chance  to  be  with 
my  family  a  few  hours.  Now  I  cannot  go  home 
very  often,  as  they  live  so  far  away,  and  railroads 
do  not  grant  one-half  fare  to  colporters  this  year. 

Several  times  I  have  been  requested  to  write 
something  about  our  work  and  experiences,  our 
trials  and  victories.  In  looking  back  over  these  six 
teen  years  of  colportage  work  in  Kansas  and  Ne 
braska  I  surely  have  reason  now  to  thank  my  God 
for  his  protecting  care  and  blessings.  We  have 
been  trying  with  his  help  in  different  ways  to  bring 
the  gospel  message  to  the  people,  both  through  the 
printed  page  and  spoken  word;  through  songs  and 
sermons  and  a  daily  life  of  walk  and  talk  with  God 
and  man.  Humbly  will  I,  therefore,  mention  just 


So  that  Their  Lives  May  Not  Be  Barren     137 

a  few  of  the  various  experiences  from  a  colporter- 
missionary's  life  and  work. 

I  have  pleaded  with  men  and  had  the  privilege 
of  leading  souls  to  Christ  and  have  seen  them  re 
joice  with  new-born  hope.  I  have  led  and  helped 
in  revival  meetings  where  many  have  sought  and 
found  their  Saviour.  Have  had  the  pleasure  of 
baptizing  quite  a  few;  once  twenty-three  on  one 
Sunday  afternoon  and  thirty-six  within  six  weeks 
in  a  creek  at  a  place  twenty  miles  from  a  railroad. 
At  other  times  I  have  worked  for  months  without 
any  such  visible  results. 

Sometimes  while  out  in  this  work  I  have  been 
received  with  open  arms  and  treated  like  a  prince 
or  as  a  dear  friend  and  brother,  while  at  other  times 
and  places  I  have  been  despised  and  rejected  and 
have  had  to  endure  cold  and  hunger  and  all  sorts  of 
discomforts. 

Sometimes  I  have  had  breakdowns — an  axle  or 
some  other  part  of  the  car — when  I  have  been  out 
in  some  lonely  place  thirty  or  forty  miles  from  a 
garage.  Often  have  I  been  stuck  in  mud-holes  or 
snow-drifts  where  I  have  had  to  dig  myself  out; 
at  other  times  I  have  run  into  deep,  loose  sand, 
where  I  have  had  to  work  like  a  slave  under  a 
scorching  sun  for  hours  and  hours  to  get  out,  and 
not  a  living  soul  in  sight  to  reach  out  a  helping 
hand. 

Many  times  a  colporter  finds  himself  among 
people  altogether  ungodly.  He  has  to  preach  and 
lead  services  in  small  meetings,  where  he  must  be 
janitor  and  preacher,  organist  and  singer,  and  not 


138  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

have  a  person  along  whom  he  can  ask  to  lead  in 
prayer. 

At  other  times  the  Mission  Boards  have  kindly 
arranged  it  so  that  we  could  have  the  privilege  of 
attending  some  great  convention  or  other  meeting, 
where  our  souls,  in  fellowship  with  our  brethren, 
have  feasted  on  spiritual  things  for  which  we  surely 
are  thankful.  I  appreciate  these  privileges  more 
than  words  can  tell. 

Sometimes  a  colporter  may  devote  himself  alto 
gether  to  spiritual  things,  while  at  other  times  it 
is  his  privilege  to  help  with  all  kinds  of  manual 
labor  in  order  to  reach  the  people. 

While  out  in  this  colportage  work  I  have  helped 
to  organize  churches  and  Sunday  schools.  I  have 
sold  and  distributed  thousands  of  Bibles  and  books 
and  tracts.  I  have  fixed  up  churches,  plastered 
houses,  built  chimneys ;  painted  and  papered  homes ; 
have  helped  to  butcher  and  brand  cattle;  cleaned 
and  repaired  organs  and  clocks  and  sewing- 
machines  as  well  as  all  kinds  of  farm  implements. 
I  have  helped  to  build  houses  and  barns  and  sheds ; 
half-soled  shoes  and  'fixed  harnesses;  put  up  wind 
mills  and  fences;  sometimes  helped  to  plant  and 
plow  and  gather  in  the  harvest.  I  have  buried  peo 
ple  and  married  people,  and  even  served  as  both 
doctor  and  nurse  at  confinement  cases,  when  it  was 
absolutely  necessary. 

Of  course,  I  never  ask  anything  for  this  kind 
of  service  except  during  my  vacation-time  when  I 
have  helped  in  hay-  or  harvest-field.  If  they  ask 
what  they  owe  me  or  what  I  want  for  my  help,  I 


So  that  Their  Lives  May  Not  Be  Barren     139 

answer :  "  That  is  all  right.  You  don't  owe  me 
anything;  this  is  simply  missionary  work."  I 
endeavor  to  reach  out  a  helping  hand  where  I  see 
that  help  is  really  needed,  just  as  I  think  Jesus, 
my  Master,  would  do  if  he  were  here.  Of  course 
some  insist  on  paying  something,  and  then  I  say, 
"  If  you  really  want  to  do  something  for  the  mis 
sionary  cause,  I  will  surely  be  glad  to  send  it  in." 

Once  I  went  up  in  Sherman  County  and  called 
at  a  Methodist  home.  As  soon  as  I  stepped  in,  the 
mother  spoke  up  and  said :  "  We  are  surely  glad  to 
see  you!  We  have  been  hoping  and  waiting  a  long 
time  that  brother  Olson  would  come  around." 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  what  is  the  trouble  now?  " 

"  Oh,  you  see  how  our  house  looks.  I  have  been 
trying  so  long  to  get  some  one  to  come  and  help 
us  paper,  but  can't  get  any  help.  Everybody  is  so 
busy." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  am  very,  very  busy  too,  but 
have  you  got  the  stuff  at  home?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  all  here." 

"  Well,  let's  get  busy  then." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  but  before  we  went 
to  bed  that  night  the  house  was  papered,  and  early 
next  morning  I  was  on  the  road  again.  I  set  the 
father  to  plastering  up  the  rat-holes  and  places 
where  the  plastering  had  fallen  down,  the  children 
cut  borders  and  held  the  lamps  while  the  mother 
pasted,  and  I  hung  the  paper.  We  were  all  as  happy 
and  busy  as  bees,  and  got  through  easy  by  mid 
night.  But  that  was  not  all.  They  bought  one  of 
the  best  Bibles  I  had  along,  and  gave  me  two  dollars 


140  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

extra  for  missionary  work.  They  have  been  as 
faithful  workers  as  any  members  in  the  little  Bap 
tist  church  near-by,  ever  since.  Last  time,  when 
I  was  out  there  trying  to  raise  the  pastor's  salary, 
they  subscribed  two  dollars  a  month  or  as  much 
as  any  of  the  members  did. 

"  The  way  to  a  man's  heart  is  often  through  his 
stomach."  Yes,  and  through  a  little  paint  and  wall 
paper  too,  or  almost  anything  they  need.  It  is  a 
good  thing  to  be  able  to  help. 

Some  of  these  pioneer  people  are  wonderfully 
resourceful,  while  others  seem  to  be  perfectly  help 
less  when  it  comes  to  fixing  things  up.  Sometimes 
a  person  with  some  enthusiasm  and  determination 
to  conquer  difficulties  is  needed  to  help  get  things 
started.  This  is  true  in  both  temporal  and  spiritual 
things. 

Often  I  have  seen  children  coming  home  from 
school  with  shoe-soles  clean  through  so  that  their 
bare  feet  pressed  against  the  snow  every  step  they 
took,  and  I  have  visited  their  homes  very  early  next 
morning  and  found  some  pieces  of  leather  from 
an  old  saddle  or  belt  or  discarded  horse-collar;  sev 
eral  times  I  have  used  parts  of  old,  blown-out  auto 
mobile  tires  that  I  happened  to  have  along.  At  any 
rate  the  children's  shoes  have  been  half-soled  before 
they  woke  up  in  the  morning. 

But  these  are  only  little  things.  Not  long  ago 
I  came  to  a  poor  family  living  way  up  in  the  sand 
hills  in  an  unplastered  house.  It  was  so  cold  that 
if  they  spilled  a  little  water  on  the  floor  it  would 
freeze  immediately;  and  no  fuel  but  some  corn- 


A    frontier    Baptist    deacon,    whose    Christian    loyalty 
blessed  a  community. 


Wayside  pastoral  call,  Las  Animas  Valley,  Colo. 


So  that  Their  Lives  May  Not  Be  Barren     141 

cobs.  They  had  three  small  children,  ages  one, 
three,  and  five  years,  creeping  and  playing  on  the 
floor  most  of  the  time.  No  wonder  they  caught 
cold !  I  was  told  they  had  had  the  sand  and  plaster- 
cement  at  home  all  summer  and  tried  several  times 
to  get  some  one  to  come  and  help  them  plaster,  but 
had  not  succeeded.  Now  they  had  almost  given  up 
hope,  with  no  money  and  winter  coming  on  in 
earnest.  They  did  not  know  what  to  do. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  it  surely  is  too  bad.  If  it  is 
absolutely  impossible  for  you  to  get  any  one  to  help 
you,  then  rather  than  allow  you  to  live  in  that  un- 
plastered  house  with  those  three  little  children  all 
winter,  I  suppose  I  will  have  to  stop  a  few  days 
and  plaster  your  house." 

"Can  you?    Will  you?" 

I  stopped  and  worked  each  day  from  before  day 
light  until  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  and  not 
being  used  to  that  kind  of  hard  work  my  arms 
ached  so  I  thought  they  would  break  off,  especially 
when  plastering  the  ceiling.  But  we  got  the  six 
rooms  plastered  and  fixed  up  warm  and  comfortable. 

You  should  have  seen  how  thankful  they  were, 
how  their  voices  trembled  and  their  eyes  filled  with 
tears  of  gratitude  when  I  bade  them  farewell.  I 
know  if  God  will  bless  them,  there  will  be  something 
done  in  behalf  of  the  kingdom  by  the  members  of 
that  home  in  future  years.  They  are  Christian  peo 
ple.  I  baptized  the  mother  some  time  ago,  and  the 
father  was  a  Baptist  already. 

I  have  learned  a  good  many  things  during  these 
sixteen  years  of  colportage  work.  I  wish  now  that 


142  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

I  had  the  resources  and  the  health  and  strength 
to  enable  me  to  keep  on  for  many  years  in  this  work. 
But  I  am  getting  older  and  suppose  I  shall  soon 
have  to  quit. 

I  enjoy  reading  Paul's  last  words  in  Titus,  which 
I  have  before  me  as  a  motto  every  day:  "Let  all 
our  people  learn  to  devote  themselves  to  doing  good 
in  order  to  meet  the  most  pressing  needs,  so  that 
their  lives  may  not  be  barren  of  results  "  (Titus 
3  :  14,  Twentieth  Century  New  Testament). 

P.  S.  If  you  can  and  want  to  use  any  of  this 
material  in  any  way  you  are  at  liberty  to  do  so. 
I  have  made  no  statement  I  cannot  verify. 

AUTHOR'S  NOTE.  This  letter  reveals  the  fine  spirit  of  the 
frontier.  It  is  not  published  with  the  idea  of  setting  forth  a 
method  of  missionary  procedure.  The  colporter-missionary 
work,  carried  forward  jointly  by  the  Publication  and  Home 
Mission  Societies,  is  more  fully  described  in  "  Old  Trails  and 
New,"  a  companion  to  the  present  volume. 


JOE  BARANOFF'S  GOOD  FORTUNE 

(AUTHOR'S  NOTE.  Joe  Baranoff  is  an  imaginary  character, 
but  in  all  essential  particulars  the  events  as  narrated  in  this 
story  actually  have  occurred  at  one  time  or  another  in  con 
nection  with  the  lives  of  the  boys  and  girls  at  the  Kodiak 
Baptist  Orphanage,  Alaska.) 

T70RTUNE  seemed  cruel  to  Joe  Baranoff  when 
A  four  men  came  to  the  shack  that  had  been  his 
home  and  carried  the  still  form  of  his  father  away 
to  bury  it  forever  from  his  sight.  He  was  now 
alone  in  the  "  Valley  of  Ten  Thousand  Smokes,"  and 
this  meant  a  life  of  slavery  for  an  Alaskan  Indian 
boy.  Not  far  from  his  home  was  a  collection  of 
squalid  Indian  homes.  He  went  from  house  to  house 
asking  to  be  taken  in.  He  could  not  remember  his 
mother,  but  he  hoped  that  she  had  been  of  gentler 
heart  than  the  women  who  ordered  him  from  their 
doors.  He  did  so  much  want  some  food  and  a  place 
where  he  could  get  warm  and  go  to  sleep.  He 
passed  from  hovel  to  hovel  until  he  was  told  by  a 
man  smoking  a  pipe  in  his  doorway  that  he  could 
stay  there  if  he  could  carry  a  bucket  full  of  water 
and  cut  wood  with  an  axe. 

Two  months  later  a  government  official  stepped 
from  his  launch  in  front  of  the  village  and  found 
Joe  staggering  under  a  log  which  the  man  who  gave 

143 


144  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

him  shelter  and  a  little  food  was  compelling  him 
to  carry  home. 

"  He  not  my  boy,"  said  the  man  when  the  official 
asked  him  why  he  had  loaded  the  boy  down  so 
heavily.  "  Father  and  mother  both  dead." 

The  government  man  was  angry.  He  took  the 
log  from  the  boy's  shoulder  and  threw  it  to  the 
ground. 

"  If  he  is  an  orphan  I'll  take  him  to  a  place  where 
he'll  get  right  treatment." 

"  On  Wood  Island?  "  asked  the  Aleut  Indian.  "  I 
think  of  sending  him  there  on  next  boat." 

"  Too  bad  you  didn't  send  him  on  the  last  boat," 
said  the  government  man. 

Joe  came  into  a  world  he  did  not  know  existed — 
a  world  in  which  kind  voices,  good  food,  and  gentle 
treatment  took  the  place  of  starvation,  hard  work, 
and  abuse.  He  will  never  forget  the  smile  on  the 
face  of  the  superintendent  of  the  Kodiak  Baptist 
Orphanage  when  the  man  who  brought  him  in  the 
launch  told  the  superintendent  that  he  had  brought 
another  boy  for  him.  Joe  looked  around  for  a  big 
water-bucket  and  an  axe  and  told  himself  that  he 
would  be  willing  to  carry  two  buckets  if  that  man 
let  him  live  with  him. 

But  no  hard  tasks  were  given  Joe.  His  biggest 
trial  at  first  was  a  bathtub.  Every  day  he  had  to 
be  bathed  and  then  have  salve  applied  to  the  sores 
on  his  body.  He  had  never  known  what  it  meant 
to  be  free  from  these  sores.  In  time  he  learned  to 
love  the  bathtub  and  went  into  it  of  his  own  accord. 
Gradually  the  sores  disappeared,  his  cheeks  filled 


Joe  Baranoff's  Good  Fortune  145 

out,  and  he  learned  to  play  and  laugh  with  the  fifty 
other  orphans  at  the  home.  His  ribs  did  not  show 
so  prominently  any  more  because  the  fresh  eggs, 
homemade  butter,  sweet  milk,  and  lovely  bread  such 
as  our  mothers  make  drove  the  protruding  ribs  to 
cover. 

In  time  Joe  learned  that  the  Orphanage  to  which 
the  thoughtful  government  official  had  brought  him 
had  been  built  and  was  supported  by  the  Woman's 
American  Baptist  Home  Mission  Society  so  that 
children  left  alone  in  Alaska  might  have  an  ideal 
home  and  know  what  it  meant  to  be  loved. 

He  learned  to  love  this  home  and  everybody  in  it, 
including  the  superintendent  and  his  wife  and  the 
boys'  matron  and  the  girls'  matron.  He  learned 
that  the  Orphanage  consisted  of  six  hundred  and 
forty  acres  of  land,  a  dormitory  for  the  girls,  a 
dormitory  for  the  boys,  a  barn,  a  herd  of  cattle,  a 
flock  of  chickens,  and  a  silo.  The  cattle  could  not 
have  given  so  much  milk  during  the  winter  without 
the  corn  fodder  pickled  in  its  own  juices  in  that 
silo.  Any  boy  or  girl  on  a  farm  understands  that. 

Joe  rose  with  the  other  children  at  5 : 30  A.  M. 
and  was  ready  for  the  6 :  30  bell  for  morning  pray 
ers.  He  learned  to  sing  with  the  others.  After 
the  Bible  reading  and  prayer  by  one  of  the  workers, 
he  marched  to  the  dining-room,  the  procession  being 
headed  by  the  youngest  child  in  the  home.  After 
breakfast  he  joined  the  wood-cutting  force  while 
the  girls  washed  dishes,  made  the  beds,  and  helped 
with  the  other  housework.  Then  at  8 :  30  A.  M.  he 
trudged  off  with  the  boys  and  girls  to  the  Terri- 


146  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

torial  District  School,  which  is  very  near  the  home. 
After  school  there  was  a  play-time. 

And  in  this  way  the  days  passed  in  rapid  succes 
sion.  Months  passed  and  with  them  Joe  grew  to 
be,  a  sturdy  lad.  He  learned  the  story  of  Jesus'  love 
by  hearing  the  superintendent  preach  in  the  little 
chapel  on  the  island  and  from  the  talks  of  the  good 
matrons  at  the  home. 

Joe  had  been  a  profane  boy.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  could  not  overcome  the  habit.  One  day  he 
got  into  some  argument  at  the  dinner-table  and  gave 
voice  to  a  whole  string  of  oaths.  The  superinten 
dent  sent  him  from  the  room,  assuring  him  that  he 
could  finish  his  meal  afterward.  Driven  by  shame 
and  chagrin  Joe  resolved  to  leave  the  Home  forever. 
The  most  available  means  of  escape  from  the  Island 
was  the  motor-boat  that  belonged  to  the  Orphanage. 
He  had  been  taught  to  run  it.  Heedless  of  conse 
quences,  he  resolved  to  flee  northward  to  some  islands 
he  had  heard  one  of  his  schoolmates  describe. 

A  providential  wind  arose  and  compelled  Joe  to 
put  in  at  Kodiak  Island.  Here  the  United  States 
Marshal  took  him  in  charge,  but  would  not  arrest 
him  until  he  could  confer  with  the  superintendent 
of  the  Orphanage. 

"  Why  did  you  run  away,  Joe?  "  asked  the  super 
intendent  when  he  arrived  on  Kodiak  Island. 
"  Aren't  you  at  all  sorry  to  treat  us  in  this  way?  " 

Joe  was  silent.  He  knew  that  he  had  been  treated 
with  all  kindness  at  the  home,  but  was  too  stubborn 
to  tell  the  superintendent  that  he  was  sorry.  He 
was  still  smarting  with  the  humiliation  which  his 


Joe  Baranoffs  Good  Fortune 


147 


hasty  temper  and  unruly  tongue  had  brought  upon 
him. 

"  Shall  I  arrest  him  for  stealing  the  motor-boat?  " 
asked  the  officer. 

"No,"  said  the  superintendent.  "I  do  not  be 
lieve  Joe  realized  what  he  was  doing.  I  think  I 
will  accept  the  offer  of  the  good  wife  of  the  super 
intendent  of  the  radio  station  and  leave  him  at  her 
home  for  a  time." 

For  several  days  Joe  lived  at  the  radio  station 
and  it  was  so  arranged  that  all  the  duties  assigned 
him  kept  him  near  the  superintendent's  wife.  It 
was  her  plan  to  do  this  so  that  she  could  keep  him 
continually  reminded  of  all  the  activities  of  the 
home  on  Wood  Island. 

"What  a  good  time  they  must  be  having  now, 
Joe/'  she  would  remind  him.  "  Let's  see,  it's  just 
six  o'clock,  and  they  must  be  gathering  about  the 
supper-table."  Or  possibly  this :  "  They  are  play 
ing  games  now,  Joe.  They  must  be  missing  you." 

Joe  became  the  most  homesick  boy  you  can 
imagine  and  one  morning  begged  to  be  sent  to  the 
Orphanage.  And  when  he  once  more  found  his 
friends  there  he  thought  that  no  boy  on  earth  could 
be  happier.  The  knowledge  that  he  was  forgiven 
by  all  at  the  home  filled  his  heart  with  a  gratitude 
words  cannot  describe.  The  thought  that  there  was 
forgiveness  in  God's  plan  for  him  was  also  brought 
home  to  him.  When  he  knelt  by  the  side  of  the 
superintendent  he  prayed  for  help  to  overcome 
every  temptation.  And  when  a  boy  does  this  he 
is  taking  the  Royal  Highway  to  nobler  living. 
L 


IV 


UNDER  MARCHING  ORDERS  IN 
NICARAGUA 


1 


A  PIONEER  IN  PERIL 


HE  door  of  the  little  mission  building  in  Mana- 
J-  gua,  Nicaragua,1  suddenly  was  thrown  open  and 
three  small  girls  rushed  in  and  dropped  upon  their 
knees  before  the  missionary. 

"Pray  quick,  Miss  Blackmore!"  pleaded  one  of 
the  girls. 

"What  has  happened?"  demanded  the  mission 
ary,  as  she  noted  the  abject  fear  in  the  faces  of  two 
of  her  young  friends. 

"  We  met  papa  on  the  street  just  now,  and  he 
saw  us  walking  with  Eva.  Papa  will  beat  us  when 
we  get  home." 

Miss  Blackmore  understood.  Eva  was  the  daugh 
ter  of  Christian  parents  and  attended  the  mission 
Sunday  school,  and  in  Managua  at  that  time  it  was 
considered  a  public  disgrace  to  be  seen  in  company 
with  evangelicals,  or  any  one  who  even  attended 
the  services  at  the  mission. 

"  If  we  pray,  papa  can't  beat  us." 

1  Clear,  brief  statements  of  the  development  of  the  Baptist  home  mis 
sionary  enterprise  in  Latin  North  America  may  be  obtained  without 
cost  by  addressing  the  General  Board  of  Promotion  of  the  Northern 
Baptist  Convention,  276  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York  City.  The  most 
recent  publications  are  five  booklets  by  Rev.  C.  S.  Detweiler,  entitled 
"  Twenty  Years  in  Cuba,"  "  Progress  in  Porto  Rico,"  "  Baptist  Begin 
nings  in  Nicaragua,"  "  Glimpses  of  the  Salvador  Mission,"  and  "  Mis 
sionary  Intervention  in  Mexico."  These  deal  with  the  work  as  carried 
forward  by  both  Home  Mission  Societies. 

151 


152  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

The  simple  faith  of  the  children  touched  the  mis 
sionary's  heart. 

"  Yes,  let  us  pray,"  she  said. 

The  two  girls  for  whom  the  prayer  was  offered 
went  home  to  be  seized  by  their  enraged  father. 
His  whip  was  in  readiness. 

"  Papa,  you  can't  beat  us." 

The  man  was  of  great  strength,  a  soldier  seasoned 
by  the  prolonged  campaigns  of  a  recent  revolution. 

"  I  can't  beat  you !  "  The  revolutionist  laughed, 
his  arm  upraised.  But  his  curiosity  was  excited. 
"Why  can't  I  beat  you?" 

"  Because  we  stopped  in  at  the  mission  and 
prayed." 

Whether  it  was  the  voice  of  a  conscience  seldom 
heeded,  or  the  unquestioning  faith  that  shone  in  the 
eyes  of  his  young  daughters,  that  prevented  the  out 
rage,  the  narrator  is  unable  to  state.  At  any  rate 
the  father  did  not  strike  the  blows  he  fully  had  in 
tended  to  administer  as  the  punishment  he  felt 
was  due. 

One  day  Miss  Blackmore  heard  a  woman's  voice 
on  the  other  side  of  a  high  board  fence  in  the  rear 
of  the  mission.  Through  a  crack  between  two 
boards  she  saw  a  pair  of  black  eyes. 

"I  dare  not  come  into  the  mission,"  said  the 
native.  "  Will  you  not  tell  me  some  of  the  things  in 
your  book  while  I  stand  here?  I  dare  not  let  my 
husband  know  that  I  have  spoken  to  you." 

The  mother  of  the  two  girls  mentioned  above, 
the  wife  of  the  revolutionist,  was  this  humble  peti 
tioner  for  the  crumbs  of  the  Bread  of  Life. 


> 

OP 


~ 

W  _ 

•—  .     O 

p    "H 

fi 

o    n> 

3  3 


ft 

3   S 

El 


Ir 

r*-      >1 


r  &> 


3   S 


I! 

3     «-s 


A  Pioneer  in  Peril  153 

Miss  Blackmore  pried  a  board  out  of  the  fence 
and  spoke  to  her  audience  of  one.  Earnestly  and 
lovingly  she  told  her  the  story  of  the  Saviour's  love 
and  of  the  salvation  which  is  the  heritage  of  all  who 
accept  this  love.  This  sacred  clandestine  meeting 
was  repeated  time  after  time  until  the  native 
woman  became  a  devoted  follower  of  Christ.  Daily 
she  read  in  secret  the  Bible  which  Miss  Blackmore 
gave  her  until  she  was  discovered  in  the  act  by  her 
husband,  who,  in  his  anger,  snatched  the  book  from 
her  and  destroyed  it. 

One  day  the  man  found  his  wife  at  the  mission. 
"  If  I  catch  you  here  again  I'll  shoot  you,"  he  de 
clared. 

Later  the  revolutionist  relented  somewhat,  for  he 
noted  that  his  harshness  was  making  his  wife  de 
spondent.  As  he  truly  loved  her,  after  his  rough 
fashion,  he  went  to  see  the  priest  about  her  strange 
religious  awakening. 

"  She  wants  to  read  the  Bible  all  the  time,  and 
what  can  I  do?  "  he  asked. 

The  padre  gave  the  man  a  Bible  and  instructed 
him  to  tell  his  wife  that  as  a  special  privilege  he 
would  allow  her  to  read  it.  "  This  favor  should 
make  her  contented  to  remain  a  good  Catholic,"  he 
added.  But  if  the  Romanist  thought  thereby  to 
keep  the  woman  away  from  the  mission,  he  was 
mistaken.  At  the  first  opportunity  she  took  the 
Bible  to  Miss  Blackmore  for  her  inspection. 

"  Is  this  the  good  Book?  "  asked  the  woman,  after 
she  had  explained  how  it  had  come  into  her  pos 
session. 


154  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

When  Miss  Blackmore  read  the  imprint  of  the 
American  Bible  Society  on  the  title-page  of  the 
book  she  was  surprised.  However,  she  knew  that 
the  colporters  of  this  Society  had  visited  Nicaragua 
and  that  every  Bible  the  priests  could  lay  their 
hands  upon  had  been  confiscated  as  "  immoral  lit 
erature." 

"  Keep  it  and  read  it,"  said  the  missionary.  "  It 
is  the  good  Book." 

As  the  revolutionist  was  not  told  where  the  book 
came  from,  he  began  to  read  it  too.  For  had  not  the 
padre  given  it  to  him? 

There  came  a  change  in  that  home.  It  came  to 
pass  that  in  time  the  mother  and  children  were  en 
abled  to  attend  the  mission  without  molestation 
from  the  father.  And  occasionally  he  was  seen  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  building  where  the  hated  evan 
gelicals  held  their  services.  This  man,  who  had  sent 
a  bullet  crashing  through  a  window  one  day  to  ter 
rorize  the  missionary  and  her  comrades  of  the 
Cross,  now  came  to  stand  at  a  distance  to  listen 
respectfully  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  One 
day  he  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  street  and  called 
to  Miss  Blackmore.  She  answered  by  stepping  to 
the  door. 

"Miss  Blackmore,"  he  humbly  apologized,  "I 
may  have  been  wrong." 

Then  he  strode  away. 

A  few  days  afterward  he  was  called  out  to  fight, 
for  another  revolution  was  in  progress.  He  never 
came  back.  The  widow  and  her  daughters  became 
members  of  the  Baptist  church  at  Managua. 


A  Pioneer  in  Peril 


155 


II 

Down  the  street  toward  the  little  mission  a  mob 
was  making  its  way,  only  pausing  long  enough  to 
demolish  the  homes  of  two  members  of  the  evan 
gelical  church  that  some  Christians  had  dared  to 
establish  in  Managua  at  a  time  when  it  was  scarcely 
permissible  to  declare  publicly  a  regard  for  any 
church  except  the  Roman  Catholic.  Eleanor  Black- 
more,  the  missionary,  heard  the  commotion  and  ran 
to  a  friendly  merchant  to  inquire  as  to  its  nature 
and  cause. 

"  Miss  Blackmore,  you  are  not  safe  in  this  city," 
the  man  told  her  frankly.  "  The  mob  is  headed  by 
some  fanatics  who  intend  to  smash  the  mission  and 
frighten  into  submission  every  Protestant  believer." 

Miss  Blackmore  returned  to  the  mission  and  told 
all  who  were  assembled  there  to  go  to  their  homes 
and  to  remain  within  doors  until  the  fury  of  the 
mob  had  spent  itself.  She  then  entered  her  own 
home,  which  was  in  another  part  of  the  mission 
building,  to  secure  her  valuables  and  some  property 
of  two  Bible  Societies  whose  interests  she  cared  for 
in  Nicaragua.  She  could  hardly  believe  that  the 
populace  intended  to  destroy  the  mission,  but  it  was 
not  long  before  her  doubts  fled.  Before  she  could 
effect  her  own  escape  the  rioters  were  smashing  the 
doors  and  windows.  Next  they  would  probably 
demolish  the  little  apartment  between  the  mission 
and  Miss  Blackmore's  part  of  the  house.  She  heard 
their  threats  of  violence  against  all  "  heretics."  For 
the  first  time  since  beginning  her  work  in  that  far- 


156  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

away  land  she  entertained  a  feeling  that  her  life 
was  in  danger.  As  there  were  rioters  at  the  rear 
of  the  building — she  could  hear  them  battering  in 
the  back  door  of  the  mission — she  was  at  a  loss  to 
know  how  to  escape  unseen. 

The  only  front  window  in  that  part  of  the  build 
ing  where  Miss  Blackmore  had  her  living  rooms 
was  a  small  transom  over  the  entrance.  Climbing 
upon  a  chair  she  swung  this  window  open  and 
peered  without.  Just  below  her  she  saw  a  police 
man  who  was  helpless  to  disperse  the  mob,  but 
evidently  had  taken  a  position  near  her  door  to 
protect  her  if  possible. 

"  Is  it  safe  for  me  to  come  out?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  at  this  moment,"  replied  the  officer.  "  I 
will  give  you  notice  when  I  see  the  way  clear." 

Presently  the  word  was  given,  and  Miss  Black- 
more  unlocked  her  door  and  sought  refuge  in  a 
bakery  across  the  street. 

"I  will  give  ten  dollars  to  the  person  who  gets 
a  cab  for  me,"  she  offered,  knowing  that  safety  lay 
in  keeping  out  of  sight  of  the  fanatics.  She  knew 
that  she  could  not  remain  in  the  bakery  long  as  the 
proprietor  had  been  hostile  to  her  work. 

A  man  crawled  out  from  under  the  counter.  She 
recognized  her  next-door  neighbor!  With  his  wife 
and  child  he  had  fled  from  the  small  apartment  be 
tween  the  mission  and  the  missionary's  living 
quarters.  While  he  had  not  attended  the  mission, 
he  had  been  willing  to  live  under  the  same  roof  that 
sheltered  a  Protestant  missionary  and  he  had  al 
lowed  this  sympathetic  little  Englishwoman  to  nurse 


A  Pioneer  in  Peril 


157 


to  health  his  child,  therefore  he  knew  that  he  was 
in  disgrace  and  might  suffer  at  the  hands  of  the 
misguided  rioters.  As  a  matter  of  fact  they  did 
not  spare  his  home.  But  his  gratitude  to  Miss 
Blaekmore  now  overcame  his  fears,  and  he  volun 
teered  to  call  a  cab. 

Fortunately  the  cab  arrived  before  any  member 
of  the  mob  discovered  the  near  presence  of  the  mis 
sionary.  Miss  Blackmore  was  taken  in  safety  to 
the  British  consulate — she  was  an  English  subject 
— and  thence  to  a  hotel  across  the  street  from  the 
consulate. 

American  and  English  residents  of  Managua  ad 
vised  Miss  Blackmore  to  give  up  her  pioneer  Chris 
tian  work  in  the  city  as  altogether  futile  in  the  face 
of  such  odds.  But  she  labored  faithfully  on,  visit 
ing  all  the  evangelical  Christians  in  their  homes 
and  encouraging  them  to  remain  stedfast  in  the 
faith.  The  municipal  authorities  repaired  the  dam 
ages  caused  by  the  mob,  and  in  a  month  or  two 
Miss  Blackmore  again  took  up  her  residence  at  the 
mission  and  regular  services  were  resumed. 


II 

REENFORCEMENTS 

ONE  of  the  earlier  events  in  Miss  Blackmore's 
life  might  have  deterred  one  less  courageous 
from  continuing  the  work  in  Central  America.  Yel 
low  fever  attacked  the  people  in  Costa  Rica.  Many 
towns  were  practically  wiped  out  in  the  year  1902. 
Hearing  of  the  desperate  straits  in  which  the  peo 
ple  were,  Miss  Blackmore  went  to  the  fever  district 
to  do  what  she  could. 

Day  after  day  and  night  after  night  she  was  the 
only  person  in  the  village  who  could  render  any  real 
assistance  to  the  old  practitioner.  It  was  almost 
inevitable  that  in  time  she  too  was  stricken  with 
the  dread  disease.  Every  one  in  the  house  in  which 
she  rented  a  room  fled.  The  only  attention  she  re 
ceived  was  from  a  girl  in  a  neighboring  house  who 
brought  to  her  door  a  little  milk  that  had  been 
boiled. 

One  day  when  the  crisis  was  on  she  learned  that 
a  doctor  was  to  pass  through  the  village.  She  sent 
a  man  to  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  road  and  stop 
him  when  he  came  through.  About  midnight  the 
doctor  entered,  looked  at  Miss  Blackmore,  and  said 
in  Spanish  to  the  attendant  (not  knowing  that  Miss 
Blackmore  understood  Spanish),  "No  hope,  she 
will  die  before  morning." 
158 


Keen  for  cements 


159 


Miss  Blackmore  begged  the  doctor  for  some  medi 
cine  that  might  help  her  recover,  but  he  refused, 
saying  that  she  was  sure  to  die,  and  that  as  she 
was  an  English  subject  he  might  be  held  responsi 
ble  and  there  would  be  reprisals.  He  then  proceeded 
to  collect  ten  dollars  before  he  rode  away. 

Miss  Blackmore  lay  upon  her  bed  and  heard  the 
receding  hoof -beats  of  the  doctor's  horse.  A  feel 
ing  of  absolute  loneliness  came  over  her.  Then  her 
indomitable  will  asserted  itself  and  she  said  to 
herself,  "  Well,  if  I  am  to  die  in  the  morning  I  shall 
die  game." 

She  came  through.  During  her  convalescence  she 
crawled  on  her  hands  and  knees  from  bed  to  table 
and  back,  or  leaned  on  a  chair  and  guided  herself 
about.  And  since  that  recovery,  what  a  wonderful 
work  God  has  permitted  this  valiant  soldier  of  the 
Cross  to  perform ! 

Who  is  Miss  Eleanor  Blackmore?  The  following 
vivid  description  of  this  missionary,  written  by 
Mrs.  Lida  W.  Miller,  helps  us  to  get  a  view-point, 
for  we  yield  to  the  sentiment  that  led  Dr.  L.  C. 
Barnes  to  republish  it  in  "  The  Central  Republics 
of  Central  America/'  when  he  affirmed  that  "  every 
reader  who  appreciates  a  high  enthusiasm,  a  daring 
venture  in  the  Master's  service,  a  heroism  without 
limit,  and  a  consecration  without  stint,  will  be  glad 
to  read  it  again  " : 

"  Years  ago  a  novelist  with  a  vivid  imagination 
clothed  the  moors  of  Devonshire  with  such  charm 
that  streams  of  pilgrims  have  since  journeyed  to 
visit  the  land  of  Lorna  Doone.  Another  member 


160  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

of  the  Blackmore  family,  with  an  equal  imagination 
and  a  loving  heart,  listened  to  the  stories  told  by 
two  returned  missionaries  of  the  needs  of  Latin 
America  to  hear  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  She 
left  England,  and  alone  in  far-off  Nicaragua  this 
little  woman,  Eleanor  Blackmore,  has  toiled  for 
many  years,  going  in  and  out  of  the  homes  of  the 
people,  making  friends  of  the  children,  and  carry 
ing  good  news  to  sad  and  hopeless  hearts  who  have 
heard  the  message  with  gladness.  She  has  estab 
lished  a  strong  Christian  mission  in  the  district 
about  Managua,  the  capital  city.  For  a  time  Miss 
Blackmore  was  supported  by  a  faith  organization 
in  England.  When  their  faith  burned  brightly, 
funds  came  to  enable  her  to  carry  on  her  work; 
when  their  faith  waxed  dim,  she  was  often  in  dire 
need  of  means  of  subsistence,  and  at  one  time  was 
reduced  to  living  on  a  menu  of  starch  until  relief 
came.  Often  her  life  was  in  danger;  chills  and 
fever,  the  results  of  malaria,  racked  her  frame. 
Still  she  has  labored  faithfully  and  built  up  a  strong 
mission.  The  little,  modest  woman  attending  the 
conference  at  Panama  roused  but  slight  attention, 
but  her  history  proves  her  a  heroine.  She  refused 
to  listen  to  the  proposal  that  she  come  to  the 
'  States '  for  a  year  of  rest  and  study,  because  there 
was  no  one  to  carry  on  the  work  for  the  time  she 
might  be  gone.  '  But  could  you  not  work  in  a  less 
malarial  district? '  she  was  asked.  *  Some  one  has 
to  live  with  my  people,  they  cannot  be  left  alone,' 
she  answered.  Her  prayer  for  assistance  has  been 
heard.  Our  Woman's  Home  Mission  Society  has 


Keen  for  cements  161 

been  able  to  come  to  her  relief,  and  she  is  to  be  one  of 
our  own  missionaries,  working  under  the  appoint 
ment  of  our  Woman's  Society;  and  she  will  be  con 
scious  of  the  affectionate  interest  and  support  of 
our  Baptist  women." 

When  Miss  Blackmore  was  a  visitor  to  New  York 
City  recently,  she  said : 

"  I  want  to  thank  personally  the  Baptists  of  the 
North  for  taking  over  Nicaragua.  For  long  years 
I  struggled  there  alone,  and  it  did  not  seem  as 
though  I  could  get  anybody  to  take  Central  America 
into  account.  I  am  an  Englishwoman,  and  I  went 
to  Mr.  Harry  Guinness  and  he  said,  'I'll  send 
you  to  Peru  tomorrow,  but  Nicaragua,  never ! ' 
G.  Campbell  Morgan  said,  'That's  fine  work,  but 
Nicaragua — America  for  the  Americans  ? '  I  am  a 
Baptist  by  conviction,  but  I  went  outside  of  the 
denomination  to  a  dear  old  friend  of  mine  who  was 
a  member  of  the  London  Missionary  Society,  and  I 
asked  him,  'What  can  you  do  for  poor  Central 
America? '  ( I'll  give  you  a  letter  to  the  Congrega 
tional  Board  in  New  York.'  I  said,  'That's  very 
kind,  but  it  won't  answer  my  purpose.' 

"I  went  back  to  Nicaragua  in  1905,  thinking 
there  was  no  Baptist  aid  for  Central  America  and 
it  was  useless  for  me  to  seek  farther.  But  the 
Lord  opened  the  door,  and  our  good  Baptist  friends 
of  the  North  came  seeking  me,  and  so  I  am  very 
thankful  that,  though  rather  late,  still  in  time,  our 
good  friends  of  the  North  have  taken  under  their 
wing  Nicaragua,  Salvador,  and  Honduras.  We  have 
a  small  beginning,  but  there  are  wide-open  doors 


162  By -Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

and  splendid  opportunities,  and  I  am  sure  you  will 
never  regret  having  begun  the  work." 

The  little  Baptist  mission  in  Managua,  in  a  way, 
was  the  biggest  attraction  in  the  city  for  a  time.  But 
the  greater  part  of  the  audience  stood  outside  the 
building.  Any  one  stepping  over  the  threshold 
of  the  mission  could  see  his  name  in  the  paper  the 
next  day;  he  also  could  see  his  best  friends  re 
sorting  to  various  methods  of  avoiding  him  in  pub 
lic  places.  Many  wanted  to  walk  in  the  light,  but 
could  not  endure  the  resulting  persecution.  To  live 
through  the  early  days  of  evangelical  Christianity 
in  a  land  where  Christ's  evangelists  have  been  un 
known  is  to  understand  the  Master's  words,  "And 
every  one  that  hath  left  houses,  or  brethren,  or  sis 
ters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or  children,  or  lands,  for 
my  name's  sake,  shall  receive  a  hundredfold,  and 
shall  inherit  eternal  life." 

During  those  early  days — and  those  days  were 
not  so  long  ago — members  of  some  of  Managua's 
first  families  traveled  long  distances  to  obscure 
rural  places  where  the  missionaries  were  holding 
meetings,  just  to  get  a  taste  of  the  gospel  without 
suffering  the  social  ostracism  which  would  have 
been  their  lot  should  they  have  identified  themselves 
with  the  local  mission  forces.  Nevertheless  there 
have  been  notable  instances  of  the  complete  sur 
render  of  all  things  which  you  and  I  hold  as  among 
our  most  priceless  treasures,  namely,  the  comrade 
ship  of  friends,  the  sure  compensations  that  follow 
in  the  wake  of  competency  in  one's  chosen  profes 
sion  or  business,  the  high  regard  of  contemporaries. 


Keen  for  cements  163 

All  these  were  forfeited  when  one  should  as  much 
as  step  over  the  threshold  of  the  little  mission. 

A  beautiful  Nicaraguan  girl,  a  graduate  student 
at  the  University,  possessing  the  degree  of  A.  B., 
and  nearing  the  completion  of  a  course  in  law,  was 
horrified  when  her  mother  and  the  little  ones  in 
the  family  became  regular  attendants  at  the  mis 
sion.  Such  a  procedure  for  her  was  unthinkable, 
the  last  word  in  bad  form.  The  disgrace  was  hard 
enough  to  bear  as  it  was.  She  remained  aloof.  She 
had  no  thought  of  sacrificing  her  profession,  the 
estimation  of  her  young  associates,  her  social  posi 
tion.  It  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

"Pray  for  our  young  people  of  Central  Amer 
ica  ! "  implored  Miss  Blackmore  at  the  climax  of  a 
wonderful  story  she  was  telling  one  afternoon  to 
a  group  of  Brooklyn  women.  "  They  have  so  much 
to  give  up  when  they  accept  Christ !  " 

God  heard  the  prayers  which  Miss  Blackmore 
and  her  native  colaborers  offered  in  behalf  of  this 
brilliant  young  law  student.  Yes,  in  time  the  latter 
took  Christ  at  his  word.  Humbly,  penitently  she 
came  to  the  Cross.  And  the  "  hundredfold?  "  Yes, 
she  has  received  that  and  more,  although  she  has 
accepted  a  position  in  the  mission  school  at  a  very 
low  salary.  Every  day  she  gathers  her  pupils — 
she  calls  them  her  children — about  her  for  a  prayer- 
meeting.  Willingly  and  bravely,  and  for  His  name's 
sake,  she  stands  the  insolence  of  her  old-time  bosom 
companions.  The  "hundredfold?"  One  glance 
into  that  sweet,  happy  face  and  into  those  sparkling, 
resolute  eyes  will  give  the  answer. 
M 


Ill 

ONE  AND  INSEPARABLE 

SOON  after  Miss  Blackmore  began  work  under 
the  direction  of  the  Woman's  American  Baptist 
Home  Mission  Society,  the  mission  station  at  Masaya 
was  opened.  In  cooperation  with  the  American  and 
native  missionaries  of  the  American  Baptist  Home 
Mission  Society  the  work  here  and  elsewhere  was 
continued. 

From  the  first  the  petty  annoyances  usually  at 
tending  a  new  work  were  experienced  at  Masaya. 
It  was  difficult  to  rent  a  building.  Few  merchants 
would  sell  bread  or  other  supplies  to  the  despised 
"heretics."  The  converts  were  in  more  difficult 
straits  than  the  missionaries  because  of  family  and 
neighborhood  complications.  They  often  were  de 
nied  a  ready  means  of  obtaining  a  livelihood  by 
reason  of  their  open  stand  for  Christ. 

Brotherhood  became  an  actuality  in  Nicaragua. 
Delegations  from  one  station  traveled  long  dis 
tances,  often  on  foot,  to  visit  a  sister  church  still 
in  its  infancy.  Indeed  it  was  deemed  hardly  safe 
in  some  instances  for  a  new  body  of  worshipers  to 
hold  a  public  meeting  unless  Christians  from  other 
points  attended  the  services  to  render  a  moral  if 
not  a  physical  reenforcement  to  their  numbers. 
Such  was  the  situation  during  the  early  days  at 
164 


One  and  Inseparable  165 

Masaya.  Christian  friends  came  from  Managua  to 
attend  the  gospel  meetings  at  Masaya  to  hearten 
the  worshipers  in  the  little  mission  in  the  latter 
city.  The  need  of  such  reenforcement  was  empha 
sized  rather  suddenly  on  one  occasion  particularly. 

There  was  a  happy  assemblage  of  converts  in 
the  mission  at  Masaya  one  evening.  Miss  Black- 
more  was  at  the  organ  and  Rev.  Jose  Mendosa,  the 
pastor  at  Managua,  was  preaching.  Suddenly  the 
peace  of  the  worshipers  was  disturbed  by  ominous 
noises  in  the  street.  Miss  Blackmore  had  been  an 
ticipating  trouble.  There  had  been  ugly  signs  of  a 
plot  brewing  that  had  reminded  her  of  the  develop 
ments  at  Managua.  She  had  sent  word  to  the  chil 
dren  not  to  come  to  the  services.  By  a  strange 
coincidence  the  native  pastor  had  chosen  as  his 
text,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  Let  it  be 
said  that  the  loyalty  of  that  little  band  in  the  face 
of  threatening  persecution  would  have  been  hard  to 
equal.  They  were  ready  to  sell  their  shoes  to  obtain 
bread,  if  need  be,  before  entertaining  a  thought  of 
surrender.  The  Acts  of  the  Apostles  repeated! 

Hurriedly  the  leading  opponents  of  the  evangeli 
cals,  under  the  pretense  of  a  religious  exercise,  had 
organized  an  impromptu  procession  in  exaltation  of 
"  The  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus." 

"  We  will  have  no  trouble,"  said  Miss  Blackmore. 
"When  the  procession  nears  the  mission  we  will 
remain  silent." 

To  cease  all  audible  religious  exercises  was  a  rule 
followed  by  the  evangelicals  whenever  a  procession 


166  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

passed  near  their  meeting-places.  On  this  occasion 
the  worshipers  were  instructed  by  Miss  Blackmore 
to  engage  in  silent  prayer.  They  waited.  The 
clamor  in  the  street  grew  louder.  Angry  voices  in 
denunciation  of  the  "  heretics  "  were  heard. 

The  procession  did  not  pass  the  mission.  The 
destination  of  the  celebrants  of  "  The  Sacred  Heart 
of  Jesus  "  was  the  Baptist  mission.  Led  by  their 
priest,  who  flourished  a  six-shooter,  the  marauders 
broke  ranks  and  charged. 

"  Now  go  at  them ! "  commanded  the  priest  as 
he  flung  open  the  door. 

The  attackers  were  armed  with  sticks  of  fire-wood 
with  which  they  smashed  the  lamps,  thus  plunging 
the  room  in  darkness  at  once.  They  then  proceeded 
to  smash  the  furniture.  Under  a  semblance  of  au 
thority  they  attempted  to  seize  some  of  the  male 
worshipers  as  political  prisoners  for  whom  they 
pretended  to  have  warrants.  Miss  Blackmore,  with 
admirable  presence  of  mind,  summoned  the  mission 
people  to  one  end  of  the  room.  She  made  available 
for  just  such  an  emergency  a  preparedness  born  of 
years  of  experience  in  that  country.  From  another 
room  she  had  lamps  brought  in  and  lighted  them. 

Then  into  a  solid  phalanx  she  marshaled  the 
forces  at  her  disposal.  Unitedly  they  advanced 
against  the  attacking  party  and  pushed  all  who 
were  hostile  to  the  cause  outside  the  building.  The 
doors  were  then  bolted. 

Presently,  during  a  lull  in  the  tempest  of  angry 
voices  outside,  a  man  at  the  rear  door  insisted  that 
he  be  granted  admittance. 


One  and  Inseparable  167 

"  Who  are  you?  "  asked  Miss  Blackmore. 

"  A  police  captain." 

"  Pass  me  your  number." 

When  this  reasonable  request  was  not  granted, 
Miss  Blackmore  peered  under  the  door  and  saw  the 
dim  forms  of  armed  men  crouching  in  readiness 
for  the  charge  as  soon  as  the  door  was  opened.  The 
door  remained  bolted. 

During  the  attack  a  woman  slipped  away  from 
the  mission  and  summoned  aid  from  the  Nicara- 
guan  military  police,  and  toward  midnight  the  mob 
was  dispersed  by  soldiers. 

One  of  the  last  persons  to  leave  the  mission 
building  was  a  ten-year-old  boy,  the  son  of  the  brave 
little  woman  who  had  gone  for  help.  The  boy  had 
a  lantern  with  which  to  light  the  path  homeward 
for  the  missionary. 

"  Why,  my  dear  little  laddy,"  exclaimed  the  mis 
sionary,  "  why  did  you  not  go  home  with  mamma?  " 

"She  told  me  to  stay  with  you,"  said  the  boy. 
"  I  would  stay  and  die  with  you." 

Such  is  the  devotion  of  these  wonderful  people ! 

It  was  declared  by  the  leading  opponents  of  our 
Baptist  missionary  enterprise  that  our  workers 
would  never  get  a  foothold  in  Jinotepe.  But  finally 
a  man  was  discovered  who  was  willing  to  rent  a 
building.  Miss  Blackmore  made  the  arrangements. 
A  native  pastor  visited  the  place  regularly. 

That  there  existed  a  bitter  prejudice  to  overcome 
at  the  station  the  following  incident  serves  to  re 
veal: 


168  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

One  day  Miss  Blackmore  and  the  native  pastor 
were  in  the  village  to  hold  some  meetings,  when 
they  heard  a  great  commotion  up  the  street.  Fear 
ing  trouble  they  hurried  toward  the  crowd  and  were 
shocked  to  see  a  lad  of  seven  years  of  age,  the  son 
of  an  evangelical  Christian  mother,  with  a  rope 
around  his  neck  and  waist.  He  had  been  dragged 
by  some  adults  to  one  of  their  innumerable  saints' 
images,  and  brutal  efforts  were  being  made  to  force 
the  boy  to  kiss  the  image. 

When  Miss  Blackmore  and  the  native  pastor  ap 
peared,  the  child  was  freed.  The  missionaries  lec 
tured  the  fanatics  on  the  depravity  of  grown-ups 
who  could  get  amusement  out  of  torturing  a  child. 
Then  they  went  to  the  home  of  the  boy  thinking  to 
console  the  parents  because  of  the  grievance. 

To  their  surprise  they  found  them  on  their  knees, 
mother,  grandfather,  and  the  boy  who  had  been 
persecuted.  All  were  praying  for  the  misguided 
opponents  of  the  gospel.  They  rejoiced  that  they 
had  been  found  worthy  to  suffer  for  Christ. 

Months  later  this  child  was  the  divine  means  of 
converting  a  man  who  had  been  strongly  opposed 
to  the  gospel  in  that  village.  He  became  interested 
when  he  heard  about  the  little  fellow's  bravery  un 
der  persecution.  He  often  sought  the  boy's  com 
pany  to  listen  to  his  songs  and  prayers.  His  heart 
melted  in  the  warmth  of  such  devotion  and  he  is 
now  a  staunch  follower  of  Christ. 


THE  SOUL  OF  THE  NEW  AMERICAN 


I 

FIELDBRAVE  OF  THE  IMPERIAL  VALLEY 

A  HINDU  and  an  American  rode  up  to  a  ranch- 
house  in  the  Imperial  Valley,  dismounted, 
knocked  upon  the  front  door,  and,  finding  the  place 
deserted,  pushed  open  the  door  and  invited  them 
selves  in.  The  Hindu  seemed  to  be  more  at  his  ease 
than  the  American.  It  was  near  dinnertime. 

"  We'll  soon  have  something  to  eat,"  said  the 
Hindu,  after  a  search  through  the  pantry  had  re 
sulted  in  a  conviction  that  further  foraging  was 
necessary. 

He  took  down  a  shotgun  from  the  wall  and  se 
lected  two  shells  from  a  box  of  ammunition  upon 
the  mantle.  His  next  selection  proved  his  judgment 
of  poultry,  and  a  young  rooster  fell  a  victim  to  his 
marksmanship.  It  was  not  long  before  the  fowl 
was  in  a  pot.  Flour,  butter,  and  curry  helped  to 
complete  the  meal.  The  two  invaders  fared 
sumptuously. 

When  only  an  assortment  of  well-picked  bones 
remained  of  the  extemporaneous  repast,  the  Amer 
ican  saw  two  men  approaching  the  house  and  re 
marked  jokingly  that  he  thought  of  hiding. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  said  the  Hindu. 

"But  won't  they  be  offended  at  our  intrusion?" 
asked  the  American. 

171 


172  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

"  They  will  be  delighted." 

"  I  can  scarcely  believe  you." 

"  You  will  observe  that  I  have  the  password." 

"What  password?" 

"  India." 

The  Hindu  passed  out  and  spoke  to  the  power 
fully  built,  turbaned  men  who  had  arrived. 

"  Ham  to  tumhare  makan  men  gusgaye  (We  have 
broken  into  your  house)." 

"Great!" 

"Fine!" 

Here  was  genuine  hospitality.  The  American 
wondered  at  it  and  perceived  that  he  must  alter  his 
notions  of  the  swarthy  foreigners  who  often  are 
classed  as  interlopers.  He  wondered  still  more 
when  the  Hindu  farmers  invited  him  and  his  com 
panions  to  remain  as  guests  at  the  little  ranch. 

What  afforded  the  American  the  most  pleasure 
was  the  discovery  that  the  friendship  which  existed 
between  these  two  heathen  and  his  Christian  com 
panion  was  unaffected  and  real.  For  he  remem 
bered  that  there  had  been  a  time  in  the  early  min 
istry  of  Theodore  Fieldbrave  when  the  Hindus  of 
the  Imperial  Valley  had  scorned  to  speak  to  him, 
looking  upon  him  as  a  traitor  to  the  best  traditions 
of  India. 

Kindness  and  infinite  patience  had  won  for  Field- 
brave  a  position  among  the  Hindus  on  his  field 
which  was  hardly  thought  possible  for  him  to  attain 
when  he  was  commissioned  by  the  Home  Mission 
Society  to  enter  this  difficult  field. 

Many  of  the  Hindus  in  the  Imperial  Valley  are 


Fieldbrave  of  the  Imperial  Valley        173 

from  that  part  of  India  called  The  Punjab  (Punj, 
meaning  five;  ab,  meaning  water — a  place  nour 
ished  by  live  rivers.)  They  are  an  independent, 
proud  people,  yet  lovable  and  loyal.  Within  three 
years  after  they  enter  the  farming  regions  of  the 
Pacific  coast  they  progress  from  ditch-diggers  to 
independent  farmers.  They  are  natural  agricul 
turists,  expert  in  the  raising  of  cotton,  rice,  and 
wheat. 

Fieldbrave's  work  among  the  Hindus  is  chiefly 
personal.  But  when  the  missionary  speaks  in  a 
church  they  will  often  come  and  listen  to  him  with 
respectful  attention.  He  visits  them  at  their 
ranches ;  he  meets  them  upon  the  streets ;  they  come 
to  his  room.  When  they  are  in  trouble,  and  their 
troubles  are  many,  they  solicit  his  aid,  for  they 
have  learned  that  he  is  their  friend. 

Many  events  have  occurred  which  have  tended  to 
foster  in  the  hearts  of  the  Imperial  Valley  Hindus 
a  faith  in  the  sincerity  of  this  missionary.  He 
interprets  their  leases,  attends  court  with  them, 
and  among  the  merchants  pleads  for  them  the 
square  deal. 

A  bitter  prejudice  exists  against  the  Hindus  in 
several  localities  where  they  have  settled.  In  cer 
tain  towns  it  has  been  difficult  for  them  to  buy 
anything  to  eat  in  the  restaurants.  Not  long  ago 
a  good-looking,  well-dressed  Mohammedan  went  to 
a  restaurant  and  ordered  dinner.  He  was  served, 
but  was  charged  two  dollars  for  a  fifty-cent  meal. 
Unwilling  to  suifer  the  injustice  without  protest  he 
went  to  his  Christian  friend,  the  Baptist  mission- 


174  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

ary.  The  latter  took  up  the  matter,  but  could  get 
no  redress  for  the  Mohammedan  except  the  refund 
of  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents. 

There  are  two  groups  of  Hindus  with  whom 
Fieldbrave  is  working.  He  describes  these  as  the 
Mohammedans  and  the  Sikhs.  He  says  that  the 
Mohammedans,  anti-Christian  from  start  to  finish, 
are  always  ready  to  argue  with  him.  This  he  avoids 
doing  if  possible,  as  no  strict  Mohammedan  can  be 
won  by  an  argument  for,  like  the  Jews,  they  are 
slaves  to  religious  rites  and  customs  even  to  the 
minutest  point.  Their  religion  sanctions  hatred 
toward  Christians,  but  the  hearts  of  many  of  them 
have  been  touched  by  the  kindness  which  the  young 
missionary  invariably  shows  them. 

The  Sikhs,  in  religion,  are  neither  Mohammedan 
nor  Hindu,  the  name  meaning  "  followers  "  or  "  dis 
ciples."  This  religious  sect  was  founded  in  the 
Punjab  in  the  fifteenth  century  by  Baba  Nanak, 
who  rejected  the  caste  system  in  India  and  idolatry 
and  taught  the  worship  of  one  God.  They  believe 
in  the  Fatherhood  of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of 
man.  They  have  a  temple  in  Stockton  which  is 
considered  one  of  the  most  expensive  and  imposing 
buildings  in  that  city. 

Missionary  Fieldbrave  makes  the  following  con 
trast  between  four  religions: 

Picture  a  man  in  a  deep,  dry  well,  the  sides  of  which  are 
smooth  and  perpendicular.  Unaided,  there  is  no  possible  way 
of  escape  for  the  victim.  Along  comes  Krishna,  who  says: 
"  I  am  very  sorry  for  you.  But  really,  sir,  you  should  not 
be  unhappy.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  well  or  ground  or 


Fieldbrave  of  the  Imperial  Valley         175 

smooth  sides.  Indeed,  there  is  nothing  material;  all  is 
spiritual.  You  are  mistaken,  there  is  nothing  wrong  with 
you.  I  am  sorry,  but  I  can  do  nothing." 

Then  comes  Buddha:  "I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  but  I 
cannot  help  you.  You  must  work  to  save  yourself.  Even  if 
not  in  this  life,  you  have  the  hope  that  in  the  next  life  you 
will  be  born  into  a  better  and  happier  state." 

Mohammed  stops  a  moment :  "  Well,  I  am  very  sorry 
for  you.  But  it  is  fate.  You  would  not  be  in  there  if  it  were 
not  to  be  that  way.  I  cannot  help  you.  If  you  are  to  be 
saved,  you  will  be;  if  not,  you  must  die  there." 

Christ  comes.  The  blessed  Saviour  reaches  down  his 
hand  and  raises  the  man  to  the  level  ground,  feeds,  clothes, 
cares  for  him,  and  saves  him.  He  has  a  cure  as  well  as 
compassion. 

There  is  one  phase  of  the  work  which  is  of  recent 
development  but  of  no  less  interest.  Inasmuch  as 
there  are  no  women  from  India  in  California,  a 
number  of  men  of  the  religions  mentioned  above 
have  secured  brides  from  other  nationalities.  The 
women  these  men  have  married  for  the  most  part 
are  either  Mexican  or  Spanish  Roman  Catholics. 
The  children  resulting  from  these  marriages  are 
half-Christian  of  some  sort  and  half  Mohammedan, 
Hindu,  or  Sikh  of  a  kind.  The  other  day,  the 
wife  of  a  Mohammedan  named  Walayat  Khan, 
whom  our  missionary  frequently  visits,  took  her 
baby  boy  to  the  Catholic  priest  to  be  christened, 
and  Walayat  Khan  consented  to  the  procedure  on 
condition  that  the  child  be  given  a  Mohammedan 
name  also.  What  will  the  boy  become?  Moham 
medan  or  Christian? 

At  the  present  writing  our  missionary  to  the 
Hindus  is  in  India  on  furlough.  A  letter  from  him 


176  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

to  Dr.  C.  A.  Brooks,  of  the  Home  Mission  Society, 
brings  the  interesting  news  that  he  expects  soon 
to  return  with  a  Christian  bride.  His  happiness 
is  great,  for  it  is  his  thought  that  she  will  be  able  to 
render  a  distinct  service  to  the  wives  and  children 
of  the  Hindus  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact. 


II 

LOAVES  FOR  THE  HUNGRY 

OUR  home  missionaries  believe  that  by  the 
terms  of  the  Great  Commission  they  are  not 
wholly  loyal  to  their  Master  unless  they  go  out  into 
their  respective  communities  and  in  homes,  facto 
ries,  shops,  and  on  street  corners  make  known  the 
blessings  of  the  gospel.  The  following  two  stories 
bear  testimony  of  the  results  of  their  faithful  min 
istry  to  the  needy  wayfarers: 

One  day  the  missionary  working  among  the  new 
Americans  in  the  Homestead  steel  district  was  in 
vited  to  a  certain  home  for  dinner.  A  most  unex 
pected  and  trying  experience  followed,  and  for 
many  days  thereafter  she  was  saddened  by  what 
she  beheld. 

In  that  room,  as  the  family  and  the  guest  gath 
ered  about  the  bountifully  set  table,  there  sat  a 
young  man  with  sunken  cheeks  and  hollow  eyes, 
looking  hungrily  at  the  steaming  food.  The  mis 
sionary  looked  about  her,  and  when  she  saw  no 
place  set  for  him,  she  looked  questioningly  at  her 
host  and  hostess. 

"  No,  he  is  not  to  sit  down  with  us.  We  no  longer 
will  give  food  to  such  a  man." 

"And  he  is  your  son?"  asked  the  missionary. 

"  Yes." 

177 


178  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

To  sit  down  and  partake  of  a  hearty  meal  while 
some  one  looked  on  half-starved,  was  more  than 
the  missionary  could  endure.  She  knew  the  story 
of  this  young  man's  life.  She  knew  that  his  soul 
was  hungry,  too,  hungry  and  half-starved  for  lack 
of  love  and  the  life  abundant. 

Bela  was  a  carpenter  by  trade,  but  squandered 
his  earnings  in  drink  and  dissolute  living.  His 
clothes  were  ragged  and  dirty,  and  his  countenance 
had  lost  the  freshness  of  youth  and  had  become 
that  of  a  confirmed  drunkard.  As  no  employer 
wanted  such  a  workman,  he  was  searching  for  a 
new  job  after  every  drunken  debauch.  Even  his 
family  had  no  faith  in  his  promises. 

As  the  missionary  looked  into  the  hungry  eyes 
of  Bela,  her  heart  melted  in  pity.  In  her  kind, 
gentle  way  she  excused  herself  and  asked  the  young 
man  to  follow  her.  In  her  own  home  she  prepared 
a  meal  for  him. 

Like  a  starved  creature  Bela  ate  what  the  mis 
sionary  set  before  him.  His  hunger  appeased,  he 
was  about  to  take  his  leave  when  she  placed  a  de 
taining  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Bela,"  she  said,  "  are  you  not  tired  of  all  this? 
Are  you  not  weary  of  sin?  " 

In  answer  to  the  assurance  of  new  life  and  hope, 
he  looked  doubtful  and  said,  "  There's  no  use." 

But  the  missionary  knew  that  Bela  was  mis 
taken.  "  Jesus  is  able  to  save.  Will  you  pray?  " 

Bela  shook  his  head. 

"Will  you  repeat  a  few  words  after  me  as  I 
pray?" 


Loaves  for  the  Hungry  179 

Bela  consented.  In  faltering  words  he  repeated 
the  missionary's  earnest  petition  in  his  behalf  and 
arose  from  his  knees  with  a  new  grip  on  life.  Once 
more  he  found  employment  as  a  carpenter.  Day  by 
day,  and  hour  by  hour  he  fought  against  the  old 
temptation  and  fought  to  break  the  fetters  that 
bound  him.  More  than  once  he  fell,  but  somehow 
the  conviction  that  God  would  not  give  him  up 
helped  him  to  his  feet  again  and  in  time  the  forces 
of  darkness  that  had  enshrouded  his  soul  were  de 
feated,  and  he  walked  into  the  light. 

After  a  public  declaration  of  his  allegiance  to 
.his  Lord  and  Saviour  he  was  baptized.  Today  he 
is  a  respected  member  of  his  community,  a  happy 
husband  and  father,  and  his  daily  life  is  a  testimony 
of  the  freedom  won  through  Christ. 

One  evening  the  missionary  whom  God  had  used 
in  the  recreation  of  Bela  was  holding  a  street  meet 
ing  on  the  outskirts  of  Pittsburgh.  While  she  told 
the  story  of  God's  way  of  redemption,  a  drunken 
person  hanging  to  a  telephone-pole  swore  at  her. 
After  the  service  she  spoke  kindly  to  him.  This 
charitable  treatment  stirred  the  remaining  spark  of 
manhood  in  him  and  he  wanted  to  talk  further 
concerning  a  religion  that  made  one  so  gracious  to 
strangers. 

"Come  tomorrow,  when  you  are  not  under  the 
influence  of  alcohol,  and  I  will  talk  with  you."  . 

The  immigrant  responded  to  the  invitation  by 

appearing  on  the  street-corner  before  the  gospel 

service  began.     He  was  sober  and  wore  a  clean 

shirt.    Again  he  heard  the  news  of  salvation;  the 

N 


180  By -Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

Lord  opened  his  heart  to  the  gospel,  and  he  became 
a  new  man. 

Not  long  after  the  turning-point  in  this  man's 
life,  his  wife  arrived  from  Europe  to  join  her  hus 
band  in  America.  She  arrived  in  the  colony  while 
her  husband  was  at  work  in  the  Homestead  Steel 
Mills.  Her  friends  greeted  her  heartily,  but  with 
serious  misgivings  reported  that  her  husband  had 
gone  crazy. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  asked  in  alarm. 

"  He  is  like  one  in  a  trance,"  they  said.  "  He 
doesn't  drink  and  carouse;  he  has  stopped  fighting 
and  swearing.  He  doesn't  attend  mass  and  has 
taken  the  holy  pictures  out  of  his  room.  He  has 
passed  up  the  dance-hall  and  the  card-table,  and 
worst  of  all  he  seems  possessed  to  read  the  Bible 
and  talk  religion  and  preach  on  street-corners." 

The  woman's  heart  turned  cold.  She  wished  that 
she  had  not  answered  his  entreaties  to  come  to 
America.  She  recalled  something  about  his  religious 
experience  which  he  had  mentioned  in  one  of  his 
letters,  but  was  unprepared  for  this. 

When  she  greeted  her  husband  she  was  silent  on 
the  subject  of  religion  and  for  two  weeks  watched 
him  for  signs  of  insanity  with  all  the  anxiety  of 
love.  Then  one  day  she  threw  aside  all  restraint 
and  said:  "Joseph,  they  told  me  you  were  crazy. 
If  this  is  true,  then  I'd  like  to  be  crazy,  too." 

Joseph  became  a  missionary  to  his  countrymen 
in  America,  laboring  under  the  direction  of  the 
American  Baptist  Home  Mission  Society  until  his 
death  not  long  ago. 


Ill 

CASTLES  ON  THE  ROYAL  HIGHWAY 

(AUTHOR'S  NOTE.  The  actual  name  of  the  missionary 
whose  work  is  described  herewith  is  withheld.) 

MARGARET  CARLETON,  on  a  vacation  trip, 
was  nearing  her  destination,  when  a  small 
boy,  grown  weary  by  the  long  journey,  came  over 
to  her  seat  with  his  building-blocks. 

"Can  you  build  a  castle?"  he  asked,  looking  up 
hopefully  into  her  face. 

The  young  woman  had  been  looking  out  the  win 
dow  at  the  lofty  mountains,  deep  canons,  and  forest- 
clad  slopes  that  make  Oregon  scenery  as  interesting 
as  any  that  may  be  seen  in  America.  While  con 
scious  of  the  wonderful  panoramic  view,  her 
thoughts  had  been  far  away.  She  smiled  reminis- 
cently  when  she  answered  the  boy. 

"  Yes,  I  can  build  castles — but  they  are  air- 
castles." 

"Then  build  an  air-castle  for  me!"  The  child 
clapped  his  hands  delightedly. 

With  solid  wooden  blocks  Miss  Carleton  began 
the  building  of  an  "  air-castle,"  but  it  was  a  castle 
not  a  whit  more  substantial  than  the  "  air-castle  " 
that  gradually  had  been  taking  shape  in  her  mind 
during  three  strenuous  years  while  serving  as  a 

181 


182  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

missionary  among  our  new  Americans  at  , 

Pa. 

It  was  of  "  her  people  "  she  had  been  thinking. 
To  help  to  meet  their  needs  in  a  great  industrial 
community  was  her  great  ambition.  Even  vacation 
days  and  a  separation  of  over  two  thousand  miles 
from  her  field  could  not  drive  from  her  mind  anx 
ious  thoughts  concerning  the  field  to  which  the 
Woman's  Board  had  sent  her. 

When  Margaret  Carleton  went  to  ,  Pa., 

she  found  no  public  library,  no  playground,  no 
day-nursery,  no  hospital,  no  dispensary,  and  no 
other  denomination  except  the  Baptist  working 
among  the  seven  thousand  foreign-speaking  people 
who  lived  in  this  crowded  city  of  tenements  near 
the  great  steel-mills  of  Homestead. 

In  a  little  chapel  of  one  room  she  began  her  work 
for  these  new  Americans.  There  she  learned  how 
to  use  the  limited  resources  at  her  command  to  the 
best  advantage,  because  she  learned  first  of  all  the 
home  conditions  in  the  community. 

Some  of  the  conditions  this  young  missionary 
found  existing  in  just  one  half-block  would  surprise 
the  majority  of  people  who  live  in  the  average 
American  community  and  enjoy  average  home  com 
forts  and  social  privileges.  She  found  in  this  one 
small  half-block  sixty-four  families  living  in  two- 
story  tenements,  and  of  this  number  fifty-four 
families  made  homes  in  two  rooms.  Among  these 
sixty-four  families  she  found  eleven  different  na 
tionalities.  She  found  one  hundred  and  fifty-four 
children  for  whom  the  alley  and  the  curb  were  the 


Castles  on  the  Royal  Highway  183 

only  playgrounds.  From  this  one  small,  densely 
inhabited  half-block  twenty-seven  children  came  to 
the  mission  conducted  by  Miss  Carleton. 

There  were  a  great  many  things  Miss  Carleton 
met  during  her  calls  which  fell  back  into  the  com 
pany  of  things  forgotten  because  their  frequency 
had  made  them  common,  and  in  time  she  ceased  to 
be  appalled  when  she  found  that  seven  or  eight  in 
a  family  were  obliged  to  occupy  one  sleeping-room, 
or  when  she  found  no  sign  on  the  door  of  a  house 
where  there  was  a  case  of  measles,  whooping-cough, 
or  mumps,  because  "  the  doctor  he  maka  children 
stay  home." 

In  more  than  one  home  she  found  some  girl  in 
her  teens  cut  off  early  from  attendance  at  the  pub 
lic  school,  while  in  the  home  there  were  brothers 
and  sisters  depending  upon  her  as  the  little  mother. 

In  one  of  these  homes  an  incident  occurred  that 
might  have  caused  one  of  less  faith  and  courage  to 
desist  from  making  more  calls  in  the  neighborhood. 
When  she  entered  this  home  a  woman  regarded 
her  with  ill-disguised  suspicion  and  hastily  called 
her  husband.  Up  from  the  cellar  came  a  half  dozen 
men  with  dark  faces  and  black  beards,  some  carry 
ing  flash-lights.  That  a  stranger  was  in  the  house 
seemed  to  alarm  them.  They  angrily  demanded 
why  the  young  woman  had  called.  When  she  stated 
that  she  was  from  the  Baptist  mission  and  desired 
only  to  be  of  help  in  the  community,  they  impu 
dently  asked,  "  Do  you  have  to  put  down  whether 
we  are  citizens?"  She  left  the  house  with  the  im 
pression  that  she  had  invaded  the  nest  of  some 


184  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

anarchists  who  suspected  her  of  being  a  govern 
ment  spy. 

It  was  not  long  before  twenty-seven  children  from 
this  half -block  became  members  of  the  mission  Sun 
day  school.  There  were  many  sections  just  like 
it  which  the  missionary  visited.  Scores  of  chil 
dren,  with  souls  starving  for  something  which 
they  could  not  define,  flocked  to  the  little  chapel 
and  quickly  learned  to  love  the  young  woman  who 
kept  on  with  her  arduous  work,  because  she  wanted 
these  children  to  know  the  love  of  her  Saviour. 

And  as  the  weeks  passed  the  work  at  the  Baptist 
mission  grew  in  significance  and  power.  The  mis 
sion  was  used  almost  constantly,  not  only  on  Sun 
day,  but  during  the  week.  It  is  doubtful  if  any 
other  floor  space  in  the  area  of  the  Northern  Bap 
tist  Convention  has  had  recorded  upon  it  more  foot 
prints  than  the  worn  floor  of  this  little  chapel.  As 
the  work  grew,  so  did  the  castle  grow  and  take 
definite  shape  in  the  mind  of  the  young  missionary 
who  directed  this  work.  Two  large  capital  letters 
became  imprinted  upon  her  heart  over  the  gate  of 
that  castle — letters  that  increased  in  vividness  as 
the  pattering  of  small  feet  upon  the  worn  floor  be 
came  more  frequent.  The  letters  were  "C.  C.," 
and  you  already  may  have  guessed  what  they  stood 
for. 

In  order  to  meet  one  of  the  needs  of  the  commu 
nity,  Miss  Carleton,  with  the  help  of  friends,  estab 
lished  a  library,  and  it  was  not  long  before  there 
were  circulating  five  hundred  books.  A  library  and 
a  good  reading-room  formed  part  of  her  castle 


Castles  on  the  Royal  Highway  185 

which  was  now  becoming  a  thing  of  reality.  A 
boy's  club  called  the  "  Crusaders  "  was  organized. 
There  where  so  many  who  wanted  to  join  that  ten 
companies,  each  with  a  captain  and  nine  members, 
were  formed.  Inasmuch  as  the  seating  capacity  of 
the  chapel  was  limited,  each  company  was  given 
its  special  section  of  ten  seats  at  every  meeting. 
To  assist  the  ushers  in  seating  the  crowd,  each  boy 
was  given  a  metal-rimmed  tag  bearing  a  red  num 
ber  to  signify  his  company  and  a  black  number  to 
denote  his  position  in  the  company.  The  ushers 
became  experts  in  deciphering  the  meaning  of  the 
figures,  and  long  before  the  hour  to  begin  the  ses 
sion  the  seats  were  filled  with  "Crusaders,"  with 
the  "  waiting  list "  standing  in  the  rear. 

Last  fall  when  the  dressmaking  class  was  formed 
several  fourteen-year-old  girls  made  their  first 
dresses.  Walking  models  took  the  place  of  bulletin- 
board  announcements.  One  can  easily  imagine 
some  of  the  remarks  that  were  made. 

"Oh  Ann,  you  have  a  new  dress.  Where  did 
your  mother  buy  it?  " 

"  She  didn't  buy  it.    I  made  it." 

"  Quit  your  kidding.    You  know  you  can't  sew." 

"I  did  make  it.  Miss  Carleton,  at  the  Baptist 
mission,  showed  me  how." 

"  Well,  of  all  things!  I  never  knew  they  taught 
any  one  to  make  real  dresses  at  that  mission." 

When  once  these  children  of  our  new  Americans 
hear  the  story  of  Jesus'  love  as  told  by  Miss  Carle- 
ton,  they  want  to  come  again  and  hear  it  all  over 
again.  In  time,  however,  a  strong  unchristian 


186  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

opposition  to  the  work  showed  itself  in  various 
ways  that  cost  Miss  Carleton  many  sleepless  nights 
and  no  end  of  worry.  One  day  her  heart  was 
stirred  by  grief  and  pity  when  a  little  Italian  girl 
came  to  her  and  in  a  quiet  way  told  her  that  her 
day-school  teacher  had  told  her  that  if  she  attended 
the  Baptist  mission  again  she  would  whip  her. 
The  next  Sunday  this  girl  was  at  the  mission  Sun 
day  school,  and  on  the  following  Monday  she  in 
formed  Miss  Carleton  that  her  day-school  teacher 
had  whipped  her  and  had  threatened  her  with  a 
worse  punishment  if  she  told  any  one  about  it. 
This  was  a  serious  affair.  Other  children  came  to 
Miss  Carleton  with  the  same  story,  and  word  of 
what  was  being  done  reached  the  ears  of  members 
of  the  school  board.  Miss  Carleton  was  called  be 
fore  the  board  and  was  asked  to  reveal  the  names 
of  teachers  who  threatened  children  with  punish 
ment  because  they  attended  the  Baptist  mission. 
This  Miss  Carleton  refused  to  do,  believing  that, 
for  the  sake  of  the  children  and  the  work  at  the 
mission,  nothing  could  be  gained  by  her  taking  a 
public  stand  against  those  who  were  trying  to  un 
dermine  her  work.  The  school  board  went  ahead 
with  its  investigation  and  discovered  enough  evi 
dence  to  warrant  the  dismissal  of  two  or  three 
teachers  who  did  not  know  the  real  meaning  of  re 
ligious  freedom  in  America. 

And  so,  week  by  week  and  month  by  month,  Miss 
Carleton's  air-castle  grew  in  importance  and  reality 
until  some  of  the  denominational  leaders  were  con 
vinced  that  it  was  a  very  practical  dream  indeed, 


Castles  on  the  Royal  Highway  187 

and  there  is  every  assurance  that  a  fine  building 
is  going  to  be  erected  on  the  double  lot  where  the 
tiny  chapel  stands  so  that  Sunday  school  and  church 
services  can  be  held  without  too  much  crowding. 
The  boys'  and  girls'  clubs  will  be  given  a  chance 
to  develop  properly.  And  in  addition  to  other  good 
things  there  will  be  a  hospital  for  children,  a  kin 
dergarten,  day-nursery,  community  laundry,  gym 
nasium,  shower-baths,  and  rest-rooms.  As  at  our 
Christian  centers  in  other  industrial  communities, 
there  will  be  a  royal  Christian  welcome  for  every 
body. 

And  this  from  the  missionary  herself: 
"It  is  coming,  I  feel  sure!  Meanwhile,  I  shall 
send  sick  children  ten  miles  to  a  dispensary.  I 
shall  conduct  the  clubs  as  best  I  can  in  the  chapel. 
The  children  will  have  free  access  to  our  small 
library  of  donated  books.  When  the  Sunday  school 
is  packed  and  some  are  standing,  I  shall  try  to 
refrain  from  the  desire  to  burst  the  walls  asunder 
until  there  is  sufficient  room.  I  shall  do  my  best 
with  what  we  have.  I  shall  not  cease  to  pray  that 
our  vision  may  be  realized  and  that  the  air-castle 
may  be  a  castle  of  mortar  and  brick  in  the  form 
of  a  Christian  center  for  this  needy  community." 


IV 

* 

A  BOWERY  PRAYER  CIRCLE 

FROM  Mulberry  Street  and  the  Bowery  a  num 
ber  of  boys  gathered  on  the  sidewalk  opposite 
the  Baptist  mission  on  the  Lower  East  Side  of  New 
York  City.  At  a  given  signal  from  the  leader  of 
the  gang  the  boys  charged  across  the  street  and 
entered  a  side  door  of  the  mission  and  raided  one 
of  the  vacant  rooms.  They  overturned  benches  and 
chairs  and  stamped  upon  them,  doing  all  the  dam 
age  possible  during  the  brief  interval  they  remained 
in  the  building. 

The  Italian  pastor,  two  Italian  young  men,  and  a 
visitor  were  drawn  to  that  part  of  the  building  by 
the  loud  racket.  One  of  the  raiders  was  seen  flying 
through  the  side  entrance,  the  last  member  of  the 
gang  to  leave  the  building.  A  woman  appeared 
from  a  door  and  hysterically  demanded  that  the 
police  be  called.  An  old  man  who  often  came  to 
the  mission  to  render  what  assistance  he  could 
in  distributing  song-books  and  arranging  chairs, 
seemed  greatly  disturbed. 

"  We  should  get  the  police  after  those  hoodlums," 
he  declared.  "We  ought  to  make  a  lesson  out  of 
one  of  them." 

The  pastor  and  his  two  young  friends  did  not  get 
excited. 
188 


A  Bowery  Prayer  Circle  189 

"  One  time  a  policeman  caught  one  of  these  mis 
chief-makers,"  said  the  pastor.  "  He  brought  him 
to  me  and  asked  me  if  he  should  jail  him.  I  said, 
'  No,  let  him  go.  He  feels  sorry  for  what  he  has 
done.  Some  day  he  won't  bother  us  any  more.'  " 

The  visitor  turned  to  one  of  the  young  Italians. 
You  could  walk  several  blocks  in  a  big  city  before 
seeing  a  finer  type  of  the  New  American.  His  skin 
was  clear  and  healthy,  his  eyes  were  the  open, 
friendly  sort  that  inspire  confidence. 

"What  have  you  got  to  say  about  this  raid?" 
was  asked.  "It  was  rather  vicious,  don't  you 
think?  " 

Louis  smiled  in  a  quiet  way.  "  I  know  who  they 
are.  They  don't  mean  anything  by  it.  Nobody  is 
setting  them  up  to  do  it,  as  some  tell  us.  It's  just 
their  way  of  having  fun.  We  are  praying  for  a 
number  of  the  boys  in  that  gang,  and  some  day — 
yes,  it  may  be  several  years  from  now — we'll  win 
them  for  Christ.  We  never  give  up  a  fellow  when 
we  once  start  praying  for  him." 

A  wonderful  night  at  the  mission!  Down  in  the 
social  rooms  a  group  of  Italian  young  people  with 
the  two  women  missionaries  served  supper  for  the 
teams  working  for  the  success  of  the  New  World 
Movement.  Around  the  table  were  gathered  repre 
sentatives  of  several  nations — China,  Italy,  Russia, 
and  America.  They  were  residents  of  the  Lower 
East  Side,  and  they  pledged  their  loyalty  to  the 
advanced  program. 

After  supper  the  Italian  young  people  gathered  in 
the  Christian  Endeavor  rooms  and  held  their  weekly 


190  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

prayer-meeting.  Leading  them  in  their  devotions 
was  an  American  high-school  boy  from  an  up-town 
church.  With  them  were  the  two  devoted  young 
women  who  had  consecrated  their  lives  to  home 
missionary  work.  As  a  part  of  that  group,  but  not 
actually  members  of  it,  were  half  a  dozen  Italian 
boys,  who  were  still  members  of  the  street  gangs, 
but  were  drawn  into  the  circle  by  some  power  they 
could  not  resist.  When  the  prayers  and  testimo 
nies  made  them  conscious  of  their  lack  of  harmony 
with  the  higher  plane  of  living,  they  bolted  down 
stairs,  shouting  their  derision,  but  it  was  an  hour 
before  they  left  the  building.  The  English  pastor 
in  charge  of  the  mission  held  them  in  earnest  con 
versation  in  some  room  below  and  listened  kindly 
to  their  vague  objections  to  the  Christian  faith  as 
exemplified  at  the  mission. 

In  that  prayer  circle  were  three  Italian  girls 
grown  to  womanhood,  who  knew  that  as  soon  as 
they  returned  to  their  homes  that  night  they  would 
be  beaten  unmercifully  by  parents  who  had  prac 
tically  forsaken  the  Roman  Catholic  church  and  yet 
refused  their  daughters  the  peaceful  enjoyment  of 
a  gospel  that  brought  Jesus  directly  into  their  lives 
without  priest  or  prelate  as  intermediary.  Twice 
and  sometimes  three  times  a  week  these  beautiful 
Italian  girls  were  willing  to  suffer  cruel  punish 
ment  in  honor  of  their  blessed  Saviour. 

"Why  do  you  not  appeal  to  some  organization 
for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  children  in  behalf 
of  these  young  converts?"  the  visitor  asked  one  of 
the  missionaries. 


A  Bowery  Prayer  Circle  191 

"  They  do  not  wish  us  to,"  said  this  young  woman. 
"They  love  their  parents  and  are  sorry  for  them. 
All  of  our  young  people  pass  through  this  period 
of  persecution  because  of  their  stand  for  Christ." 

"  I  never  feel  the  strap  when  father  lays  it  across 
my  back,"  said  a  starry-eyed  young  woman  whose 
daylight  hours  were  spent  in  hard  labor  assisting 
her  mother  to  care  for  a  large  family  of  children. 
"  I  can't  explain  why  the  strap  doesn't  hurt.  Last 
night  father  broke  it  across  my  back.  It  seems  to 
me  that  Jesus  is  always  with  me  and  takes  upon 
himself  some  of  the  force  of  the  blows." 

The  girl  smiled  brightly  while  she  told  her  story 
— a  story  as  old  as  the  gospel  itself.  Beautiful  as 
the  morning  is  such  a  faith — a  faith  which  keeps 
the  world  from  growing  old. 

Among  these  children  of  the  tenements  was 
Joseph.  He  and  Louis  are  staunch  friends.  On 
this  same  wonderful  night  at  the  mission,  Joseph 
gave  his  testimony  before  the  deacons,  who  there 
upon  voted  to  recommend  him  to  the  church  as  a 
candidate  for  baptism. 

"  I  came  to  this  country  from  Sicily  when  I  was 
ten  years  old,"  said  Joseph.  "  Father,  mother,  and 
a  younger  brother  were  with  me.  Father  could 
not  find  work,  so  I  used  to  get  up  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning  to  sell  papers  until  nine  so  that  I 
could  earn  fifteen  or  twenty  cents  to  buy  milk  and 
bread  for  our  breakfast.  I  attended  the  public 
school  just  off  the  Bowery.  After  school  every  day 
I  was  out  with  my  shine-box.  I  also  picked  up  an 
occasional  dime  by  acting  as  porter  for  folks  walk- 


192  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

ing  from  subway  stations  to  the  ferries  or  railroad- 
stations. 

"  My  father  kept  right  on  having  poor  luck  get 
ting  steady  work,  and  when  I  was  thirteen  and  a 
half  years  old  I  walked  out  of  school  and  never 
went  back.  I  got  a  job  at  six  dollars  a  week  as  an 
errand-boy  at  a  store  on  Fulton  Street.  Then  I 
went  to  work  in  a  soap-factory  for  nine  dollars  a 
week.  This  wasn't  enough  money  for  family  use, 
so  I  went  into  a  shoe-factory  and  became  an  expert 
in  my  department. 

"  As  a  newsboy,  bootblack,  and  errand-boy  on  the 
streets  of  the  Lower  East  Side  I  guess  I  learned 
every  bad  habit  a  boy  can  have.  I  was  a  member 
of  a  tough  gang  that  used  to  be  up  to  all  sorts  of 
pranks.  We  called  it  fun. 

"  I  knew  Louis  in  those  early  days.  We  attended 
the  same  school  and  often  met  on  the  streets.  But 
he  was  a  different  boy.  He  attended  the  Mission, 
and  his  folks  used  to  beat  him  up  for  it.  Some 
times  I  went  to  the  mission  with  others  of  the  gang. 
We  went  to  have  fun,  laughing  and  talking  and 
banging  chairs  during  Sunday  school,  and  stoning 
the  building  when  we  were  outside  just  like  that 
gang  did  tonight.  We  used  to  abuse  Louis  on  the 
street.  We  called  him  *  the  deacon '  and  tried  to 
guy  him  into  quitting  the  mission.  But  he  was 
always  kind  to  me.  I  could  see  that  the  workers 
at  the  mission  respected  him  while  I  was  always 
making  trouble  for  them.  I  can't  see  even  now  why 
they  didn't  drive  me  out  and  order  me  to  keep  out 
on  threat  of  getting  the  police  after  me. 


A  Bowery  Prayer  Circle  193 

"I  guess  their  kindness  won  me.  I  owe  every 
thing  to  the  pastor  and  the  women  missionaries, 
and  I'll  never  forget  what  Louis  and  the  other 
members  of  the  prayer  circle  have  done  for  me. 
They  tell  me  that  they  have  been  praying  for  me 
seven  years.  And  now  I'm  praying  for  some  boys 
in  that  gang  out  there. 

"As  soon  as  I  began  to  attend  the  prayer-meet 
ings  and  speak  for  Jesus  I  found  happiness.  I  can 
not  tell  you  how  happy  I  am.  I  am  in  the  shoe 
business  for  myself  now.  I  will  never  return  to 
the  old,  careless,  sinful  life.  Next  Sunday  I  will 
be  baptized,  and  it  will  be  the  greatest  day  of  my 
life." 

Ernest  had  been  a  member  of  a  gang  of  hood 
lums,  but  came  under  the  sweet,  Christian  influ 
ence  of  the  young  women  missionaries  at  this  mis 
sion  and  the  prayer  circle  which  they  had  formed. 
Not  long  ago  he  joined  the  United  States  Army  and 
was  sent  to  a  Southern  training-camp.  As  a  young 
Italian  immigrant  his  chances  to  make  much  of 
himself  in  the  environment  which  the  Bowery,  Mul 
berry  Street,  and  the  Chinese  community  afforded 
had  been  slim  indeed.  He  had  been  a  leader  in 
much  of  the  trouble  which  the  rough  element 
caused  the  mission  workers.  The  young  women 
who  had  been  sent  to  this  unevangelized  district 
never  lost  their  grip  through  lack  of  faith  in 
Christ's  power  to  win  even  those  who  strayed 
farthest  from  his  side.  In  spite  of  all  kindness 
shown  him,  Ernest  had  seemed  hopelessly  opposed 
to  Christianity.  The  prayer  circle  never  took  his 


194  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

name  from  the  list,  however,  and  when  he  left  the 
Bowery  to  train  for  a  military  career  he  was  nearer 
the  kingdom  than  his  closest  friends  supposed.  At 
length  a  letter  came  to  Miss  B.,  one  of  the  mis 
sionaries.  According  to  the  light  he  had  received 
he  had  tried  to  represent  Christ  in  the  barracks. 
He  told  his  story  without  smoothing  the  rough 
spots.  Some  of  us  might  have  found  a  better  way 
to  show  our  loyalty  to  Christ,  some  of  us  may  have 
been  less  successful. 

There  had  been  an  argument  in  camp.  It  was 
about  gambling  and  the  disreputable  camp-follow 
ers.  Ernest  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  how  much  he 
admired  those  who  lived  worthily,  like  Miss  B.  and 
her  fellow  workers  at  the  mission  on  Manhattan's 
Lower  East  Side.  In  order  to  gain  a  hearing  for 
himself  he  did  not  speak  of  his  former  life  with  the 
tough  gang.  He  simply  argued  from  the  standpoint 
of  right  or  wrong  and  made  a  plea  for  the  clean 
life.  His  story  follows : 

"Well,  Miss  B.,  these  soldiers  were  all  against 
me.  Some  didn't  want  to  argue,  so  they  started  a 
game  of  cards.  One  fellow  spoke  up  and  said  some 
thing  that  made  me  pretty  mad.  All  the  others 
started  to  laugh.  It  made  me  feel  pretty  bad  to 
see  them  laugh  at  me  for  trying  to  tell  them  some 
of  the  good  things  you  people  taught  me.  I  took 
it  as  a  joke,  but  stuck  to  my  saying.  These  boys 
down  here  are  husky  fellows,  and  to  go  against 
them  is  a  pretty  rough  matter.  I  didn't  want  any 
trouble,  so  walked  away  to  where  the  boys  were 
playing  cards.  One  of  the  soldiers  I  had  just  been 


M 

1 


»  c 
n  3 
^  ffq 

<  S1 

w 

gf 

O        C/5 


A  Bowery  Prayer  Circle  195 

talking  with  said  in  a  mean  way  to  one  of  the  sol 
diers  playing,  '  He'll  tell  his  mother  you  are  teach 
ing  him  bad.'  Why,  Miss  B.,  a  slap  in  the  face 
would  have  done  me  less  harm  than  those  words. 
All  the  soldiers  laughed  with  tears  in  their  eyes. 
I  felt  blue." 

(Ernest  had  come  up  a  long  way  out  of  every 
form  of  vice.  There  was  nothing  these  soldiers 
could  teach  him.  Yet  he  was  determined  to  gain 
no  favor  with  them  by  telling  them  of  his  former 
life.  He  was  resolved  to  stand  up  against  them  as 
he  conceived  that  a  Christian  gentleman  should. 
The  reference  to  his  mother  he  resented.  Yet  he 
might  have  passed  that  by.  Before  he  could  say  a 
loyal  word  in  her  behalf  he  found  himself  con 
fronted  by  his  opponent,  the  latter  stripped  for  a 
fight,  his  fists  doubled.) 

Ernest  continues: 

"'We  should  ask  permission  from  the  sergeant 
first/  I  said. 

"  They  said  that  I  was  afraid,  and  just  then,  as 
luck  would  have  it,  the  sergeant  stepped  up.  '  Are 
they  trying  to  put  something  over  on  you?'  The 
sergeant  looked  at  me. 

"'No,  there's  just  a  little  misunderstanding,'  I 
said. 

"  I  believe  the  sergeant  understood  what  was  up. 
He  sleeps  next  to  me,  and  every  night  he  sees  me 
read  the  Bible. 

"Well,  we  were  taken  out  on  the  field,  the  ser 
geant  giving  his  consent.  From  the  barracks  to 
the  field  these  are  the  words  I  said,  '  God,  if  I  am 
o 


196  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

wrong  I  am  willing  to  stand  for  a  licking,  but  if  I 
am  right,  help  me.' 

"  It  seemed  that  every  one  was  against  me,  and 
I  felt  blue.  There  was  no  one  to  back  me  up.  '  God 
help  me ! '  They  told  me  it  was  to  be  a  fight  to  a 
finish  before  I  had  a  chance  to  say  a  word.  Well, 
after  taking  my  shirt  off  I  just  looked  to  God  and 
said  aloud,  '  Ready ! '  We  started.  I  could  see  no 
one  but  this  soldier  who  fought  against  me.  There 
were  soldiers  shouting  to  him  how  to  hit  me.  He 
was  a  good  fighter.  He  was  all  I  could  see.  I  kept 
myself  pretty  good.  Darkness  was  all  around.  Did 
I  get  hit?  No,  it  wasn't  a  blow,  for  I  felt  myself 
moving  around.  Then  why  did  I  see  black  around? 
I  couldn't  answer  the  question.  My  mind  worked 
pretty  fast.  I  heard  soldiers  shouting  against  me. 
I  felt  dizzy.  I  was  discouraged.  All  the  world 
seemed  to  be  against  me.  I  heard  myself  speak  in 
my  mind, '  God,  did  you  forget  me? '  I  was  falling. 
Was  I  in  a  dream?  No,  it  could  not  be  a  dream, 
because  I  felt  the  blows.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  I 
heard  a  shout.  It  waked  me  up.  This  is  what  I 
heard:  '  Stand  up  to  it,  Ernest! '  Did  I  hear  those 
words  or  was  it  imagination?  I  heard  that  same 
voice  again.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  we  stopped  fight 
ing.  I  felt  myself  falling.  One  of  the  men  picked 
me  up.  After  a  few  minutes  I  looked  around  and 
saw  the  sergeant.  I  smiled  at  him,  and  he  smiled 
back. 

"  I  didn't  know  what  had  happened,  but  the  ser 
geant  told  me  that  the  other  fellow  fell  first,  and 
when  the  referee  had  shouted  '  Stop ! '  I  fell  to  the 


A  Bowery  Prayer  Circle  197 

ground.  He  explained  about  the  voice.  It  was  the 
sergeant  himself  who  had  shouted  to  me  his  en 
couragement. 

"  I  felt  sick.  My  nose  bled,  and  my  lip  was 
cracked,  and  I  was  faint.  They  helped  me  to  the 
barracks.  There  I  saw  the  other  fellow.  I  was 
surprised  to  see  that  I  had  given  him  such  a  lick 
ing.  He  was  some  sight. 

"The  boys  felt  sorry  for  me,  and  some  of  them 
shook  hands  with  me  and  said  that  they  were  with 
me.  But  I  wanted  to  shake  hands  with  the  one  I 
fought.  But  he  didn't  want  to.  The  sergeant  told 
him  that  he  was  a  poor  loser.  He  told  me  to  go  to 
bed,  and  I  did. 

"  When  I  awoke  the  next  morning  I  had  forgot 
ten  all  about  the  trouble.  The  boys  joked  with  me, 
and  I  laughed  with  them.  My,  how  things  had 
changed !  Yesterday  they  were  all  against  me. 
Today  most  of  them  are  with  me,  but  they  still 
gamble  and  talk  about  the  things  they  should  not. 
I  can't  stop  them.  But  they  never  talk  wrong  when 
I  am  around,  as  they  know  I  don't  like  it. 

"What  I  have  told  you  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  is  the  honest  truth,  and  I  would  have  told 
you  just  the  same  if  I  had  lost.  And,  Miss  B., 
I  intend  to  do  all  I  can  for  Jesus.  I  love  him  more 
than  ever.  I  am  sorry  that  I  did  not  work  for 
him  before,  but  it  is  never  too  late.  You  people 
simply  must  believe  in  me.  I  feel  that  God  is  work 
ing  for  me  through  my  friends.  They  must  keep 
me  going  and  not  let  me  stop  at  the  most  important 
moment.  Tell  all  the  people  that  I  want  them  to 


198  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

forget  what  they  thought  of  me.  The  army  is  giv 
ing  me  a  chance  to  show  that  I  am  trying  to  live 
a  true  life.  I  mean  to  work  for  God  with  all  my 
might.  When  I  come  back  they  will  see  that  I  am 
a  different  '  Ernest/  Miss  B.,  don't  forget  me. 
Tell  them  to  pray  for  me  at  Christian  Endeavor." 

Setting  aside  for  the  moment  the  question  as  to 
whether  or  not  a  man  may  be  truly  a  man  and  still 
take  an  insult  in  silence,  we  must  thank  Ernest  for 
showing  us  that  a  fellow  can  enter  the  army  and 
not  succumb  to  the  peculiar  temptations  that  assail 
a  soldier.  He  has  pictured  for  us  the  little  band  of 
young  people  in  the  slums  of  New  York  City,  pray 
ing  for  him  and  for  other  immigrant  boys  groping 
for  higher  ideals  and  a  nobler  scheme  of  living. 
The  other  day  the  interesting  news  came  to  the 
mission  that  as  a  result  of  his  good  record  in  the 
training  camp  at  San  Antonio,  Ernest  had  been 
sent  to  the  military  school  at  Rockford,  Illinois. 
Let  us  thank  God  for  the  beautiful  lives  of  our 
young  women  missionaries.  They  are  occupying 
difficult  positions  at  the  farthest  outposts  of  Chris 
tian  effort  and  achievement.  Among  the  New 
Americans  who  are  handicapped  as  few  of  us  can 
understand,  they  are  leading  many  to  see  at  least 
something  of  Jesus'  serenity  in  the  midst  of  anger 
and  hatred.  In  a  letter  to  one  of  his  friends, 
Ernest  has  written :  "  Louis,  don't  ever  go  back  on 
Miss  B.  I  only  wish  I  could  repay  her  for  what 
she  has  done  for  me,  but  it's  no  use;  it  is  beyond 
my  power." 


V 

AN  ANGEL  OF  HOMESTEAD 

IN  a  quaint  little  town  twenty-five  miles  from 
Budapest,  Hungary,  a  gospel  street  meeting  was 
broken  up  by  an  angry  mob  armed  with  pitchforks 
and  threshing-flails.  Women,  wielding  long  wooden 
ladles  which  they  used  to  turn  bread  baking  in  big 
ovens,  joined  the  men  and  boys  in  the  savage  at 
tacks  upon  the  evangelists.  Heinrich  Meyer,  pastor 
of  the  First  Baptist  Church  at  Budapest,  was  so 
brutally  beaten  that  he  fell  fainting  in  the  arms 
of  the  young  men  who  had  journeyed  from  Buda 
pest  with  him.  The  missionaries  carried  their 
leader  to  the  river  with  the  purpose  of  boarding 
the  passenger-boat  bound  for  Budapest.  But  Hein 
rich  Meyer  was  in  such  a  deplorable  condition  that 
he  was  not  allowed  on  the  boat.  His  face  was  a 
mass  of  bruises,  and  his  clothing,  or  as  much  of  it 
as  had  not  been  torn  from  his  body,  was  covered 
with  blood  and  mud.  They  were  obliged  to  wait 
for  a  freight-train  before  the  journey  to  Budapest 
could  be  made  with  the  wounded  minister.  As  they 
lifted  him  upon  the  train  he  told  his  associates  to 
remain  in  the  village  and  continue  the  street 
meetings. 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,"  he  begged.    "  This  is  a 
place  where  the  people  will  be  converted." 

199 


200  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

The  following  week  this  intrepid  Baptist  preacher 
and  his  little  band  of  followers  again  went  to  the 
village.  From  the  housetops  the  men  and  boys 
stoned  them.  They  did  not  retreat.  A  meeting  was 
held,  and  the  people  heard  the  gospel.  Many  were 
converted,  and  now  a  Baptist  church  stands  on  a 
hill  in  this  village,  and  converts  from  that  church 
are  in  America  preaching  the  word  among  the 
Hungarians,  Croatians,  Slavs,  and  Greiners. 

One  of  the  first  converts  under  the  preaching  of 
Heinrich  Meyer  in  Budapest  was  Amalia,  a  girl  in 
her  early  teens.  She  is  Hungary's  twenty-seventh 
Baptist.  In  a  land  where  religious  freedom  was 
unknown,  Amalia  was  destined  to  suffer  as  no 
young  convert  in  an  enlightened  home  in  America 
is  called  upon  to  suffer.  Under  the  dark  shadow 
of  an  archaic  religious  system,  no  public  sentiment 
or  home  discipline  prevented  the  brothers  and  sis 
ters  of  Amalia  from  entering  the  Baptist  chapel 
and  pulling  Amalia  out  of  the  room  by  her  hair. 
Twisting  their  hands  into  her  long  tresses  they 
forced  her  to  go  home  with  them.  This  was  only 
one  of  the  many  trials  experienced  by  Amalia  to 
test  her  adherence  to  the  Protestant  faith.  In  time 
the  members  of  Amalia's  family  learned  that  they 
could  not  destroy  her  love  for  Jesus  and  the  truth 
nor  break  her  spirit,  and  so  they  ceased  their  at 
tempts  to  prevent  her  from  attending  the  church 
where  she  first  discovered  Christ. 

Amalia  became  an  earnest  missionary  in  Hun 
gary,  receiving  a  thorough  Christian  training  under 
her  pastor,  Heinrich  Meyer.  To  obtain  funds  to 


An  Angel  of  Homestead  201 

further  the  cause  of  Christ  in  Hungary,  Amalia 
determined  to  go  to  America,  but  under  God's 
providence  she  came  into  contact  with  that  saintly 
Baptist  woman,  Miss  Burdette,  who  persuaded  her 
to  exercise  her  extraordinary  gifts  as  a  missionary 
among  the  Hungarians,  Slovaks,  Croatians,  Poles, 
and  Roumanians,  and  other  foreign-speaking  peo 
ples  of  Homestead  and  Rankin,  in  the  heart  of  the 
steel-mills  of  Pennsylvania.  For  over  eighteen  years 
Amalia  Paliniy,  as  the  faithful  representative  of  the 
Woman's  American  Baptist  Home  Mission  Society, 
has  been  doing  the  spiritual  plowing  that  has  re 
sulted  in  a  remarkable  growth  of  the  kingdom 
among  our  new  Americans  in  the  Pittsburgh  steel 
district.  The  story  of  her  life  would  rival  in  in 
terest  that  of  Ann  of  Ava.  Let  us  hope  that  some 
day  it  may  be  told  completely. 

Even  while  working  in  America  the  influence  of 
this  woman  missionary  has  extended  to  her  native 
land  thousands  of  miles  away.  One  little  story  will 
illustrate  the  truth  of  this : 

A  Sunday  school  at  Rankin,  Pa.,  was  organized 
by  Amalia  Paliniy  and  her  fellow  worker,  Lyda 
Jenkins,  an  American.  Amalia  could  not  speak  a 
word  of  English  and  Lyda  could  not  speak  Hun 
garian.  But  the  work  was  carried  on  with  sweet 
mutual  helpfulness  by  them.  In  their  house-to- 
house  visitation  Amalia  spoke  to  the  mothers  in 
their  native  tongue,  and  Lyda  spoke  to  the  chil 
dren  in  English.  Some  of  their  experiences  were 
laughable  and  some  rather  pathetic  on  account  of 
Amalia's  inability  to  speak  or  read  in  English.  One 


202  By-Paths  to  Forgotten  Folks 

day  Lyda  told  Amalia  to  meet  her  on  the  corner  of 
Butler  Street  and  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  Pittsburgh, 
at  9 : 30  A.  M.,  and,  thinking  she  had  the  instruc 
tions  accurately  in  mind,  Amalia  took  a  car  early 
in  the  morning  (so  as  to  be  at  the  appointed  place 
in  good  season)  and  traveled  eighteen  miles  from 
Pittsburgh  to  Wilmerding. 

So  anxious  was  Amalia  to  learn  the  English  lan 
guage  that  she  used  to  study  until  two  and  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  "  everybody  in  the 
neighborhood  had  turned  on  their  other  sides  for 
a  second  sleep,"  as  Amalia  humorously  expressed  it. 

But  in  time  the  little  children  could  be  told  the 
Bible  stories  by  Amalia  in  the  English  language. 
Among  the  Hungarian  girls  who  came  to  the  mis 
sion  was  thirteen-year-old  Cecelia. 

Cecelia  was  converted  and  told  her  parents  that 
she  wanted  to  be  baptized.  The  parents  were  en 
slaved  by  the  superstitions  of  an  old-country  re 
ligion  and  refused  to  allow  their  daughter  to  join 
the  Protestant  church.  In  order  to  take  their 
daughter  out  of  the  Christian  atmosphere  in  which 
she  had  found  her  Saviour,  the  father  and  mother 
returned  to  Europe  at  once.  But  it  happened  that 
they  chose  a  residence  in  a  village  near  one  of  the 
churches  organized  by  Heinrich  Meyer,  Amalia's 
first  pastor. 

One  day  Cecelia  was  sent  to  a  store  to  buy  some 
articles  for  home  use  when  her  eyes  fell  upon  the 
photograph  of  a  sweet-faced  woman,  which  hung 
above  the  desk  of  the  merchant.  Rushing  toward 
it,  she  stretched  out  her  arms  in  eager  delight. 


An  Angel  of  Homestead  203 

"  My  Sunday  school  teacher!  "  she  cried. 

"  It  is  Amalia  Paliniy,  who  was  converted  in  this 
country  and  then  went  to  America,"  explained  the 
merchant. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  is,"  said  Cecelia.  "  She  taught 
me  all  about  Jesus." 

"We  have  a  Sunday  school  here  too,"  said  the 
merchant.  "  We  will  teach  you  the  same  things 
Amalia  Paliniy  taught  you  in  America." 

The  following  Sunday  Cecelia  attended  the  Bap 
tist  mission  in  the  little  Hungarian  town.  When 
her  father  missed  her  he  searched  everywhere  and 
could  not  find  her  until,  like  the  parents  of  the  boy 
Jesus,  he  went  to  the  church  (temple  of  God)  to 
find  her.  He  wanted  to  call  her  out,  but  the  deacons 
of  the  church  requested  him  to  sit  down  and  wait. 

The  father  waited.  After  the  service  he  took 
Cecelia  home  to  punish  her,  but  conscious  of  a  stir 
ring  in  his  heart  that  was  different  from  any  emo 
tion  he  ever  had  experienced,  he  refrained  from 
carrying  out  his  purpose.  Both  father  and  mother 
began  attending  the  gospel  services,  and  all  three 
are  now  happy  members  of  this  Baptist  church  in 
Hungary. 

THE  END 


